


SERE: Rescue

by Magpies_Treasury



Series: Survival, Evasion, Rescue, and Escape [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Drug Use, Love Triangles, M/M, Multi, Reunions, Revenge, Torture, time skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-05-14 18:47:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 57,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5754280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magpies_Treasury/pseuds/Magpies_Treasury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>TW: Mentions of drug overdose and suicide, drug use, unhealthy relationship practices.</p>
        </blockquote>





	1. I Wasn't Expecting You to Rescue Me

After six months of intense combat training the three terms with Jim were already seeming like a bad dream and by the time he'd been shipped out to Afghanistan anything that had taken place in the UK was a world away. Determinedly, Sebastian Moran stayed out there - taking his leave times exploring the middle east and Asia, ignoring any communication that attempted to come through from Mycroft Holmes and holding out for some message from Jim. None came, and eventually he found himself half forgetting the young man. After his first year in active service during an absence of leave in India, he got a small tattoo of the letter "J", a thin black line drawn in by an under-qualified apprentice along his inner left thigh. The needle dragged scratchily along his skin and he felt a certain amount of relief coming out with it. Jim might own his arse, somewhere in his muddled mind, but that still left plenty of body left for Sebastian Moran to have fun with.

 

His first fuck was three days after his first kill. Both left him feeling somehow vindicated that he could perform both acts without feeling the slightest pang of guilt. When the young man he'd rather brutally fucked was shot five days later, the absence of any kind of feeling left him giddy and euphoric. He'd finally broken through, no longer was he left sobbing and broken from a fuck who'd been mistreated. That night he tried again, with a young Afghani soldier in training, giving a smirk and two fingers up to authority when the man complained to his superiors and he was given a slap on the wrist and transferred.

 

He was forced back to England finally by his father, and not in the way he'd expected when the old man died and the solicitors insisted on a signature from him in person to execute the will. It was a lot of money, and the army seemed almost suspiciously keen to let him go, fed up with complaints of brutality and assault that seemed to follow Moran around. He stayed in England as briefly as possible, spending the time he wasn't at the solicitor’s in a pub in Houndslow which was a shite pub but had the advantage of being incredibly close to Heathrow Airport. He was counting down the minutes when a blond young hipster sat down next to him and gave him a shy smile. Sebastian grinned like a shark and shook his head, tutting as he noticed the ring on the young man's finger, "Naughty boy - fuck off and find another piece of rough to disappoint your wife with. You look rich enough for a lawyer and believe me a lawyer is what you'll want when I'm finished with you. Right after a doctor." He leered and then gave an annoyed scowl as the man looked completely non-intimidated and pushed a pint of Guinness in his direction, "I said piss off - I'm not in the mood and I'm waiting for a flight. And I don't drink that Irish shit.”

 

The bleached blond snorted and pushed the thick rimed glasses further up his nose. “It wouldn’t be the first time either of us has sent the other to the doctor. From what I hear, Sebastian Moran, you are recently much wealthier than I am. I'm insulted. Guinness is classic. My da got me started on this shit.” Jim dropped the shy smile and stared at him, sizing him up. “They’ve really neglected your training if you can’t recognize me. You’ve ruined my fun.” He had just entered the country himself, as soon as he landed he’d gotten a call from Sherlock. He’d heard that Moran was in England from Mycroft or John — Jim hadn’t really asked for details, but Sebastian was leaving in a few hours. Jim had come straight from the airport to the bar and sat and watched Sebastian for a while, pretending to chat on his phone. He seemed well. It wasn’t very strange that Sebastian hadn’t recognized him. Jim’s hair was longer now, more of a normal length instead of the shaved head that Sebastian had associated him with. Jim had colored his hair and wore green contacts for his last job. He had tattoos now, dots and lines connecting them ran across the surface of his skin — over his neck and his arms and the backs of his hands. There were many more under his clothes but that was all that was visible right now. He was wearing dark jeans and a white v neck and Jim wore a gold band on his wedding finger. It amused him that Sebastian seemed to think he’d been married to a woman. “Miss me?”

 

Sebastian felt his jaw drop as soon as he heard the voice, and suddenly looked at the man properly - like a target rather than a tourist. Fuck, it was him, there was no way some game send by Mycroft Holmes to fuck him up would be this... good. The lines of the face were the same, the sound of the voice, only the outer trappings, clothes, hair, accessories. He found himself very much hoping the ring wasn't real and he gulped down a mouthful of the Guinness. "Yeah but your da was a Paddy Cunt. I was in the army, you little shit, not the special services. They taught me to shoot a man straight through the head from 400 yards, not identify people at close quarters. By the time it gets to me I usually assume I'm pointing the gun at the right bastard. Sometimes I'm not." He looked Jim over again, noticing the tattoos, the floppy hair, and once again lingering on the wedding ring. "Well you've let yourself go a bit. You look like you sell computers and don't know how they work. Did you manage to escape that Danish twat then?”

 

Jim smirked a little when Sebastian’s jaw dropped, it was good to know he could still get one over on him at least. He felt little goosebumps raise as Sebastian started inspecting him like a threat, the tension in the air was enough to pull him from his apathy just a little. Jim took a drink as Sebastian did, allowing him another few moments to watch him. “You _were_ in the army? Got any new plans you aren’t telling me, basher?” Seb didn’t owe Jim anything, but he was hoping that Sebastian would be available for a little while. He glared at him when he said that he let himself go. “I was American until about an hour ago, fucking sue me. And no… at the moment I’m still working for him.” Jim wouldn’t say any more until he got a better feel for Sebastian. He didn’t really know him anymore after all.

 

Sebastian felt somehow pleased it was a disguise, although he looked down at his drink as Jim mentioned working for Magnussen still, feeling an unaccustomed tug of regret. He would have preferred to hear that Jim had got out, rather than being subjected to the sort of treatment he knew Magnussen could provide. "I still am in the army, they're just being a bit cagey about letting me back. My flight's in three hours, but I had to buy the bastard tickets myself." He took another gulp of the Guinness. There was a huge amount he wanted to ask, but also plenty he didn't want to hear. Meeting Jim felt like picking at the edges of a scab which had long ago almost healed, trying to open it all up again just to check he could still bleed. "What, does he still get you to fuck people or are you just the guy who sorts the post." And then he reached forward, finally touching Jim, flicking a piece of blond hair up and sneering, "This doesn't do anything for you. Preferred it dark.”

 

Jim was rather glad to hear that Sebastian’s place in the army wasn’t secure. He could use that. But he didn’t want to be the one to open up first and make the offer. “Shame. Bet you are good.” He’d allow that much, it was the truth after all. Sebastian had never been mediocre at anything. It was strange looking him over. He looked so much older, Jim thought he had to be about twenty-four by now. He’d filled out and somehow gotten even taller and Seb was gorgeous and everything Jim had imagined when he’d been lonely — or worse, engaged with someone. He wished that they could have had this conversation after his plans had gone through but he wanted Sebastian to be there when it happened. “Yes,” he answered bluntly. He wasn’t going to sugar coat it. “I do a bit of everything. I work with my da a lot. Mostly I work alone. I’m not in the country much. From what I’ve heard you aren’t either.” Jim’s breath caught in his chest when Sebastian finally reached out to touch him, although he was sneering and that got Jim’s back up. “You have no idea what a bitch it was to keep the color up. You’re lucky you’ve got naturally light hair.”

 

Sebastian gave a grin at that, moving his hand to rub it over the stubble on his head, "Yeah, can't wait to grow it out though, fucking army haircuts." He sighed and then downed the rest of his Guinness, "So what's this then, did Mags finally decide I was too dangerous to live? Or are you moonlighting for the army? Because I am fucking good - so good they don't know what to bloody do with me." He flipped Jim's hair again and then gave it a fond little tug. "Am I about to be seduced into an upstairs bedroom, fucked and killed? Because there's no part of that which doesn't sound fucking tempting right now.”

 

Jim felt a distant pang of what felt like home sickness as he watched Sebastian rub a hand through his hair in a familiar gesture. His hair had always been cut that way as long as Jim had known him. He felt a little vindication when Sebastian finished his beer despite his protests. Jim drained his and sent the empty glass down on the bar. “Alright — you can choose the next ones.” He smiled faintly when Sebastian asked about his plans, although he couldn’t help narrowing his eyes a little when Sebastian said that being killed sounded appealing. Jim couldn’t quite get a grip on Sebastian’s current mental state. He was too different. Or maybe Jim was too different and couldn’t understand him anymore. “I thought we’d have time for a chat and a drink at the very least. You should know that Charles doesn’t know I’m here. I would very likely be in a lot of trouble if he knew. Had to text my ride and tell them my luggage got lost and I’m waiting around hoping that it’ll turn up.” Jim was struggling to remember how to make his face work, he stayed so quiet and numb for all these years it was challenging and painful trying to remember how he used to act and the right way to express emotion that he just didn’t have anymore. “How much do you remember of our last conversations?” Jim had a point to all of this but he wanted to go in slow and cautiously. It would be a mistake to rush this. Before he put his cards on the table he needed to know if Sebastian had moved on from their relationship as teenagers. He needed to know if Moran would still be devoted and willing to follow orders.

 

Sebastian looked at the drinks and raised his eyebrows, giving a shrug. He'd been out in the Middle East for a long while and drinking had always been a far too easy way to escape. He'd got out of the habit, and the pint he'd had already, plus the Guinness, was starting to approach his limit. "I'll have a diet coke and the kid will have a lemonade." He said to the barman, who looked at them both, gave a small shrug, and got the drinks. While he did, Sebastian kept an eye on Jim, who was acting suspiciously like a puppet with some of the strings cut, as if small-talk with an old friend was a difficult feat of acting. It made him instantly suspicious, but he wasn't too sure how to react. The worst Jim could do was try to kill him - if he was a good assassin then Seb would be dead, if he wasn't then Seb would be on the flight in three hours. No complex Mycroft or Magnussen-hatched plan would change that. "Oh he's 'Charles' now is he? Glad you two are getting on." He grumbled. He shrugged at the mention of old conversations, not sure how much of that scab he wanted to pick off, how much he wanted to admit that the echoes of Jim's voice had taken a very long time to go away. "You called a couple of times when I was in training, then you bloody well stopped calling. I thought you were dead for about a year.”

 

Jim frowned a little as Sebastian ordered him a lemonade but didn’t complain. In truth he was pretty dehydrated from the flight. He was only watching Sebastian out of the corner of his eye but Jim was very good at reading body language and saw the suspicion Sebastian regarded him with. “Only when he isn’t there to hear me. If he heard me call him anything but ‘sir’ he’d probably slap me one.” Jim’s joke fell flat and it took him a little longer than it should have to realize that it wasn’t really funny when he was only half kidding. Sebastian’s recollection wasn’t promising, not because Jim didn’t think he remembered but that he didn’t care to remember or bring up the past. “Yeah… got in trouble after you didn’t come home.” He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to apologize for putting Sebastian through that so he stayed quiet. “I couldn’t call. To be honest I didn’t know how to reach you. By the time I had enough freedom to look you up it had been two or three years and things got complicated.” Mostly Jim had been keeping his head down and he was worried that Magnussen would know if he started calling Sebastian, he’d make him bring him back.

 

"Got in trouble." Sebastian repeated a little flatly, deciding that the next time he saw Mycroft Holmes he would eviscerate the man he'd left to look after his Jim. Sighing he rubbed at his face. "Look, what do you want me to say - I mean does this little school-reunion have any purpose? Last time I spoke to you was five years ago when I was just starting training and you were in the middle of getting the shit knocked out of you. Do you want me to pretend I've been thinking of you every day, and wanking sadly over your picture while remaining monogamous? That I've been planning to come back and rescue you? I didn't even fucking recognise you." He reached into his inside pocket and tugged out his boarding pass, waving it at Jim, "In three hours time I'll be heading back to Afghanistan, and if the rumours about that fucking enquiry are true then in 24 hours time I'll be flying out somewhere further to see if there's a mercenary group in South America that'll take me. That offer to shoot your boss through the head from a high building is still on, by the way, even if I've forgotten which bloody code word was meant to activate it." He drummed his fingers on the bar-top, and then finally finished with, "I'm glad he didn't kill you. It's nice to see you again, even if you do look like a floppy-haired wanker.”

 

Jim was uncomfortable with the turn their conversation had taken. Even though he was the one who had technically brought it up, Jim didn’t want to talk about the position he’d been in five years ago. It didn’t exactly help him come across as a strong and confident leader. So he lied. “Wasn’t getting the shit knocked out of me. Magnussen just wanted me to say those things to get you to come back. I tried to tell you I was okay. It wasn’t my intention to cause you any grief.” Jim shook his head, feeling a little frustrated. “I wasn’t expecting you to rescue me or wait for me, I’m not stupid. And the whole point of this,” he gestured to his clothing and hair before he started to nervously twist the ring around his finger. It was a tic he picked up. Jim didn’t betray any of his tension anywhere on his face. “…was to be unrecognizable. Shit. Look, I’m here to offer you a job. Not working for Magnussen, working for me.” That was all Jim would say on the subject until he could work out how Moran felt about it. He unwound just a little as Sebastian said probably the first genuinely nice thing since he’d sat down. “No, you’re not happy to see me. You wish I’d stayed dead and buried in your head where I belong.” Jim could understand the sentiment. Having anyone who cared if you lived or died was hard to deal with.

 

Sebastian looked at him, watching how his face moved, his fingers twisting. At Jim's words his lip curled a little and then his fist quickly snapped up, knocking under Jim's jaw, enough to jar but not enough to seriously hurt or bruise, "Alright, you lied, and you can keep lying and that doesn't fucking matter. Why should it. But you don't get to tell me that I would've liked to see you dead, not when I've spent five bloody years wondering if you'd even bother to send me a text." Patting the side of Jim's face he reached for his drink. "What job and how much?" Maybe keeping this professional was the best way to get through it - because Jim was partly right. Seeing him like this, the reminder of the shittiest time of his life and the fallout he'd managed to lock away inside his head, wasn't doing much for him. He would've preferred a text, a note saying Jim had escaped Magnussen and run away, that way he could've relaxed and got on with his life. But Jim was still here and still chained.

 

Jim had a lifetime of getting knocked around behind him and still Sebastian had moved too fast for him to duck. The hit stung, mostly his pride, and Jim turned feral and angry eyes on Sebastian. He’d probably deserved it — it was a good exchange if it meant Sebastian swallowed his lie. He used to be better at knowing when Jim was fibbing. Jim wasn’t totally sure how to answer Sebastian’s questions about the work. He didn’t know how much he should tell him, and to be honest he didn’t know the answers. “Money isn’t important to you. You just received a huge sum from your father’s will — my condolences by the way — it’s the work that interests you. Keeping busy. You’ll be compensated fairly. I’m not looking to hire you for one job, I want to keep you on permanently. I’ve kept an eye on your records. It’s impressive stuff. I want you to work as my right hand.” There. That was suitably ambiguous but sounded important.

 

Sebastian felt a huge wash of relief as the mask dropped for a moment and there was suddenly an angry and feral little Moriarty snarling behind the placid and dull yuppy facade. For a moment he'd half wondered whether Magnussen had broken him, turned him into some empty whore, who just dressed up and bent over. Good to know there was something in there even if it seemed to had to hit Jim in order to get it out. He laughed a little as Jim continued, "Your right hand, hmm? That's a hell of an offer given that all I know about you is you're Mags's pet whore." The words sounded far too callous even as he said them and he glanced around the pub, glaring at the barman until he turned away. "Given you're not meant to be here and I'm not meant to be listening to dodgy offers from shady underworld members should we move somewhere more private?" He asked. Because Jim had hit the nail on the head; he didn't care about money and he was getting bored with the rules and restrictions of the army. "I'm not being Mags's stooge, not even for you.”

 

“Fuck. You.” Jim bit out, starting to get genuinely angry. He got taunts like that a lot but they didn’t make him angry anymore, usually. Still, he wasn’t green and even his anger wasn’t going to cause him to slip up and say more than he should. It would be easy to tell Sebastian exactly what he did but Jim wasn’t ready yet. It didn’t matter anyways, he wasn’t expecting to be in this line of work much longer. “Do you have somewhere in mind? It can’t be far, I have to be back here to get picked up and you need to catch your flight.” Jim started grabbing his duffle and his coat after taking a final drink of his lemonade. “Your no one’s stooge, give it a rest.”

 

"I'm no one's stooge right now, but how do I know Magnussen didn't send you after me, hmm?" Sebastian hissed, looking around and, in the absence of anywhere else to go, hustled Jim back into the gents, locking the door behind them and glaring at him in a small dank room containing one toilet unit, a urinal and an unwashed sink. "Because if he wanted a pet sniper, if he wanted to rattle me, you'd be the _obvious_ thing to send. Any other twat trying to recruit me would get spread across the pavement, but he damn well knows how I feel about you..." he stopped there. That was far enough, that was enough raw edge of skin exposed. He gave Jim a little shove, "I could walk straight back out to the army, or get a private contract for any rich bastard needing a bodyguard, hell I could join any mercinary group and be welcomed. What makes you so special?”

 

“You’re a stooge for the British army, don’t act like they give you free reign. Your inquiry is proof enough of that.” Jim hissed back as Sebastian dragged him back into the dirty lavatory. His eyes widened a little as Sebastian let that piece of information slip. Jim really wouldn’t have thought that he still had feelings for him. It had been such a long time and he’d been so aggressive and unresponsive. “You know it’s not Magnussen because he’d have me stripped and bent over the nearest surface for you right now. If he was directing me that’s how he’d tell me to get at you. But that’s not on the table, I haven’t made any advances on you. This is business.” Jim grit his teeth in frustration and finally decided that he needed to give Sebastian a little bit of vulnerability in return if he was going to trust him. “I’m special because I fucking did this for you. I’m building you a place here and if you’d rather learn Spanish and fuck off to South America then that’s fine. I’m offering you revenge, a chance to close that door on your past that you’ve tried to barricade closed but it hasn’t worked the way you hoped, has it? You still think about it. You have dreams. I’m offering to give you closure and a future. No one else can offer you that.”

 

Sebastian hesitated, thinking through what Jim had said and for the first time properly thinking about it. Jim was right, Magnussen would've ordered him to make himself available and that thought made him give a brief little snarl. Five years, and it seemed Jim had been used and abused for all of them. "You're asking me..." he said slowly, "To come back into it all, into this whole fucking shitstorm of crazy that I managed to run away from five years ago. Last time I knew you you were beaten half to death in front of me and I had my arse cut open over a vaulting horse. And now, now I have a proper job that I can do well and nobody tries to assault me at all, now you want me to dive back into it all and fucking open myself up so that every one of those fucks I remember can take turns at twisting a knife through me?" His smile gleamed in the dark and he flipped out a knife, twisting and opening it and bringing it up to Jim's neck, "Bring it. But first, find a way to convince me that Magnussen knows absolutely nothing about this meeting.”

 

“It’s going to be different. You aren’t an eighteen-year-old kid anymore; neither am I.” Was all Jim could say. He would be in charge, but Jim wasn’t going to tell Sebastian that. As much as he wanted to trust him Jim had learned the hard way not to trust like that. He didn’t know Sebastian anymore; he couldn’t risk it. “Yeah you left and you got out and I was never more fucking proud of anyone in my life but we don’t just get to run away from our problems. Don’t lie to me, you miss this shit.” He grinned back and wrapped his little hand over Sebastian’s and pressed the knife harder against his throat until it nicked the skin over his trachea and he started bleeding just a little. “Fucking do it.”

 

Sebastian stared at him, stared at the knife, feeling his nerves humming in a way they hadn't for years. Not even his first kill had left him feeling this raw, this exposed, although mainly his first kill had left him feeling a bit annoyed that the sudden breeze had tugged the shot left, and that he'd never really gotten to see the body what with the resulting chaos and sudden landmines. Jim's hand on his made his heart jump and he gave it a few moments of grinning teasing hesitation before sliding the knife away and then reaching down to slide his tongue along the blood-line left behind murmuring a, "Fuck I missed you," into Jim's neck.

 

Jim waited in anticipation, not really caring if Seb killed him or not but he wasn’t surprised when he pulled the knife away. He _was_ surprised when Sebastian cupped the side of his face and bent down to lick the blood on his throat. “Jesus. You are fucking lucky I’m clean, you moron.” Jim gave him a smack on the ear. “Did you really miss me? You sure you don’t want to go back to your job where nobody assaults you and you get a slap on the wrist when you fuck up?”

 

"Ow... you little shit -" Sebastian growled, not at all sure how he felt about being hit by someone as small and physically unimpressive as Jim. This was hardly slotting back into the ways of the past, he was pretty sure about that, but while he wanted to maintain the strength and independence he'd gained, the past kept tugging and nagging at him, scar tissue tugging at his skin. "I'm not really a slap on the wrist sort of person, you bloody well know that." He grumbled, rubbing his ear and tugging out the boarding passes again. "Want me to tear these up? They're hardly expecting me back.”

 

“I didn’t hit you that hard, stop whining. Especially with all the hitting and shoving you’ve done today.” Jim raised an eyebrow in the dark, unimpressed. “No. No I need you to get on the plane and go through the motions. I need at least a week, maybe two to get everything in place. Fuck up your inquiry if you want, you won’t be staying. But you’re going to fuck things up if you don’t get on that plane. Magnussen is still watching you and if you don’t show up for your flight just as I’m arriving for mine then he’s going to know what happened.” Jim patted his cheek and smirked. “Just be a good boy and do as you’re told. And prepare for a lot of familiar faces. I’m trying to get in contact with some of the old crowd.”

 

Sebastian felt his stomach churning just at the thought, but he could hardly turn back now. Maybe it would be good to meet up with some people now he was a 6-foot squaddie rather than an entitled child. "There's not much I can do about my enquiry, not with that bastard and his iPhone. I mean it's me in the pictures that's pretty damn clear, I'll just be doing some ‘yes-sir’ fucking bullshit and seeing if they let me off with another warning." He sighed and then snapped his teeth at Jim's hand, "Careful... I'm not some pet dog any more. Just call the base when you need me to come back, I haven't got a phone of my own, not one I trust anyway.”

 

“Uh huh…” Jim decided he really didn’t want to know about the iPhone and the video. “Aren’t you?” He asked, challengingly and Jim leaned in to brush his teeth against the skin of Sebastian’s throat. He thought about leaving a mark but decided against it. Sebastian would have to earn that. He pulled away again. “You should probably head back to the airport. It’s going to take some time to get you through security. Especially if you walk up with that fucking knife in your pocket.”

 

"Nah, now I'm a fucking wild tiger, and you know what they say about riding a tiger..." He almost groaned as Jim's teeth brushed so close, but managed to bite his lip, reaching up and messing and stroking and tugging at Jim's hair. "Yeah, yeah, I'll ditch the knife, obviously. Just felt good to hold one, specially round here. Your hair better be back to normal by the time I see you next, and loose the damn ring, it's off-putting." Unlocking the door he opened it, flipping off the annoyed-looking man waiting outside. "Alright, see you whenever, yeah? If this is some trick I'll hunt you down, rip your cock off and ram it down your throat, alright?”

 

“The army has only encouraged your vulgarity I see.” Jim wasn’t off-put, he was more amused than anything. “No no, that’s not how it works. You don’t get to dictate what I look like or what I wear or what I do with my body.” He chided him lightly. As far as Jim was concerned they weren’t together and Sebastian didn’t have any right or claim on him. “Have a safe flight _tiger_. I trust you can handle the bill.” Jim gave a wink and a wave before leaving out the front door with his things and heading back to the airport pick up area.

 

"What do I get to do..." Sebastian grumbled after him, but quietly, heading back to the bar and tugging out his wallet. He needed to think about this, he knew, more than he currently was thinking. He'd let Jim get to him and turn his head upside-down. He'd agreed to do fuck-knew what for little or no reward, but his his whole body was buzzing as he headed back to the airport. He left the knife in the foot of a particularly annoying street hawker and then headed to customs, still finding it hard to properly think as he got onto the plane. He was back with Jim, and suddenly the army, and the enquiry, seemed like very small problems.


	2. Bad. Bad Trip.

Moriarty Sr. came to pick Jim up from the airport and they made the long trip up to the school in relative silence. Neither of them liked talking to each other unless it was about business. His father was a key part of Jim’s plans and they were on the best terms they had ever been up till this point. That wasn’t saying much. His father’s eyes would periodically slide over to the dark ink on Jim’s throat and arms. It had been a fair few years since Jim had gotten the tattoos done, but it was still strange for him to see them. It didn’t help that his son looked like a stranger to him with the blond hair. He’d never dyed it quite that light before. He changed his look every job though. Drove Mags mad trying to keep his fake passports updated. He understood it was important that he not be recognized though. “How was Korea?”

 

Jim shrugged, fiddling with his phone and not looking up at his father. “여기 보다 더 나은 . 나는 아홉 개월 동안 당신의 추악한 얼굴 을보고 하지 않았다.” He said in Korean.

 

His father reached out and smacked the back of his head, “I don’t know what you said but it sounded disrespectful.”

 

Jim tisked unhappily and glared at him through his thick glasses. Thankfully the car was pulling down the long side road to get to the school and Jim didn’t have to dignify that with a response. It was strange being back here. He’d never actually graduated with his A levels. Magnussen had him finish out the school year that year he killed Cyric but after that CAM began sending him all over the world for work. Graduating wasn’t important when CAM could just get a fake transcript made up for him. “Jim Moriarty” did not get his A levels, he had dropped out at seventeen. It didn’t really matter. He was rarely Jim Moriarty anymore. In a twisted way he’d gotten what he’d always wanted. The car finally stopped and Jim stepped out, going around to the boot for his duffle bag. It was all he’d brought with him from South Korea. Jim would check in with Magnussen, debrief and then he’d be on the soonest train back to London. He had a flat there under Magnussen’s name and he wanted to visit Sherlock. He hadn’t seen him since he had left England nine months ago.

 

Magnussen watched from the window as the car drove up, his face expressionless as Jim stepped out, watching him walking up the steps and then heading back to his desk to wait for him to come up. He pretended to be engrossed in work when Jim arrived, but not for long as he knew Jim could see through it. He looked at Jim over his glasses, motioning for him to come close and shaking his head, "Good god, you look frightful. He really fell for that? Good work, as always, very neat. I trust you also managed to retrieve the contents of his safe?" He gave a small thin smile as Jim handed over the folder, knowing he would read it and then burn it. The information was much safer in Magnussen's head than out in the world. "You are doing so much better now I allow you to kill people, hmm? I'm afraid we had to lose your little flat in London, there was an incident and then I needed to get rid of it very quickly. Are you able to stay somewhere for a few days while I set up your next assignment? It'll be in the south - a very rich and influential man who needs to be very dead, very quickly. I'll send you what I know.”

 

Jim watched Magnussen expressionlessly, not rising to the bait and preoccupying himself with ideas of what he would do with the man as soon as he got his hands on him. He pouted his lips and sat on the end of Magnussen’s desk on top of some papers. Jim hoped they were important. “Awww… you don’t like me like this? Is there another way you prefer me?” Jim’s voice was mocking but he dropped the shit to talk business because Mags got pissed if he played around too much. “Yeah of course I did… handed it off to your man for smuggling into the country. Couldn’t exactly take that shit on a plane with me.” Jim hadn’t felt great about his last job. Many of the men that Magnussen sent him after were corrupt, thieving, sometimes they had histories of domestic violence or pedophilia. Jim was twenty-one now but that didn’t mean he looked it. He was carded every time he tried to buy drinks or a smoke. This man though had been clean but desperately unhappy and that made him vulnerable. Jim made him happy. Happy enough the man would have left his wife and married Jim if it was legal in Korea. He hadn’t deserved to go. Still, Jim had done what he was told and he wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. “What do you mean you got rid of my flat?” Jim was angry, Magnussen liked to think he could just yank Jim’s leash just to see how he reacted. “Fine, yeah. Send me the details when you have them. How quickly are we talking here?”

 

"I mean I sold your flat, there doesn't seem to be a clearer way for me to put it." Magnussen answered, snapping a little. He indulged Jim's moodiness because the boy was so good at what he did, but he didn't particularly enjoy it. "Get off my desk or I'll have someone pin you to it with a desk spike. Details can be with you the day after tomorrow, so stay in London. Meet Craig in St. Regent's park, usual place, he'll give you the train tickets and information. Kill him within the week. It doesn't need to be anything too elaborate, we can pretend it's a sex game if the worst comes to it. I've got a girl who'll swear he paid her to do things like that to him.”

 

“Cheers.” Jim was unhappy about his flat being sold, he didn’t own very much though. Actually, anything that had been valuable to him as a teenager was probably still boxed up and with John. He’d given it to him for safe keeping and then never gotten it back before their falling out. “Yeah, fine fine.” A week was fine. That was still enough time for everyone to be ready. “Pleasure doing business with you.” Jim slid off the desk and left quickly. He spent as little time with Magnussen as possible and wasn’t keen on being around him in the current mood he was in. Back to London then. Sherlock would probably let him crash at his place.

 

Jim groaned as he thrust inside of Sherlock a few more times before gripping his hips hard and coming into the condom. Fuck, he’d needed that. He scratched his fingernails down Sherlock’s back from his shoulder down to his arse. “Did you come?” He’d been so self involved, and Sherlock had been making plenty of noise, Jim hadn’t noticed if he’d climaxed or not. He gave Sherlock’s thigh a slap and pulled out so he could clean up and toss the condom in the bin. Jim rolled over onto his back and scratched at his chest and the Cygnus tattoo that spread across the skin there. “Can I stay here until I can settle things with Magnussen? He sold my flat while I was away and didn’t tell me. Shithead.” Technically Magnussen had bought it for him so it was his to sell but still. Dick move.

 

Sherlock kept his head down as he felt Jim climax inside him, his own hand wrapped around his cock which had finished off a few moments ago. He gave a protesting little mew at the slap, then rolled over and grabbed at the weed waiting by the side of the bed, rolling himself a joint as Jim cleaned off, "Can't see any reason why not. You were away for a long time. And having a lot of sex with someone even shorter than you." He shook his head, giving a little tut, "Someone who took a lot of care of you and is probably now dead. Smoke?”

 

“We were the same height.” Jim reached over for the blunt and lit it with the lighter on the bedside table. “Very good though. How’d you work all that out, the lack of obvious wounds and bruises? Anything else you can read off of me?” Jim was a little curious if Sherlock would be able to tell that he had seen Sebastian. He rather hoped that he couldn’t. Seeing the man for an hour shouldn’t create a visible change in him. Jim was still pretty randy, even after coming and he settled on top of Sherlock so that he could kiss and suck at the skin of his neck and chest while he smoked and gripped his arse hard with his free hand. “Did you get lonely without me here to take care of you?”

 

"You've been fed well, bathed regularly, and you're not as vicious with me as you sometimes are." Sherlock answered mildly, "You've been manicured, given good clothes, a perfect pampered little pet.” He blew smoke out, wriggling his arse in Jim's hand, "I've been taken care of, don't you worry - one thing confuses me though. Why would Magnussen send someone to threaten you? You did the job well, you're far too smug not to have. So why would he send someone to hold a knife to your throat? Someone who was unprofessional enough to actually draw blood?" He inhaled deeply then reached up to kiss Jim with the blowback.

 

Jim grinned and hummed happily, “Mmmm clever boy…” He moaned as Sherlock shot-gunned the smoke into his lunged. “It wasn’t Magnussen who did it. Can’t you think of who it might have been?” Jim gripped his arse harder as Sherlock wiggled it against his hand. He dug his fingernails into the skin. “I can be nice to you sometimes, I don’t have to have a reason. Who’s been looking after you then, hmm?” Jim was genuinely curious. Sherlock wasn’t incredibly social, and didn’t like taking risks especially when it came to sexual partners.

 

"Sometimes..." Sherlock pouted, licking Jim's lips and then his eyes widened as the deductions slipped into place. "Oh no... you didn't actually go and see him did you? Moran? Who else would be stupid enough to leave a cut on you?" He sighed, wriggling against Jim again, "Well maybe it's for the best. Maybe it's time we both started, what's the phrase? Seeing other people? You didn't have sex with him, you barely touched him, why not? Has he gone ugly? Is it because he threatened you?" He hesitated, then shook his head, "I don't know. It was very brave of you to even see him. But I'm glad you did.”

 

Jim’s jaw dropped a little in surprise, “Are you breaking up with me? That’s what this is, isn’t it?” Maybe it was the weed or coming from from the stress of a nine-month job but Jim started giggling. Really this was just precious. “Is it because of the hair? Everyone hates my fucking hair…” He took another puff and blew the smoke in Sherlock’s face after holding it in his lungs. “You say all these things and I’m always so impressed and irritated in equal measure and I just want to put my cock in here.” Jim pressed a thumb between Sherlock’s lips, smirking down at him. “I did go see him. No, I didn’t have sex with him. Why do you expect me to suddenly fall back into bed with someone? We’re basically strangers.” Jim frowned a little, “Why are you so glad I went to see him? Trying to pawn me off on someone else. Aren’t you going to miss me even a little bit?” Jim bent forward to lick up the shell of Sherlock’s ear before biting down on the cartilage. “Am I not good anymore?”

 

"N-no... I just..." Sherlock gave a little moan, his mind frantically back-peddling over what he'd said. He'd assumed Jim would be pleased that he'd found someone else to get to know, that he was moving on, and that he was happy Jim had re-acquainted himself with Sebastian. Instead he seemed to have set off all sorts of uncertain feelings. Jim was a drug, and the most potent and powerful one he knew. Easy to get hooked on, and a bad trip could easily send you to hospital. His lips parted as Jim's finger slid against them and he protested, "You're hardly strangers, five years ago you had a huge amount of sex with him, not to mention both getting illicit medical treatment together. That sort of experience pulls people together. O-of course I'll miss you, I didn't mean that, just..." He hesitated, not quite sure how to say that of all the ways he was trying to get clean, chucking Jim was proving to be the hardest and possibly the most dangerous. "I - I'm pleased because you used to enjoy him...." He tried helplessly, "And, you know, he's probably more up for what you, a-a-ow…"

 

“Well if this is going to be my last chance to fuck you…” Jim wasn’t sure he really believed Sherlock. He believed him when he said that he’d found someone but Jim didn’t think that Sherlock really was going to be able to stop having sex with him. They had been doing in on and off for five years, that was much longer than him and Sebastian had been together. And Sherlock was just so fun to play with. “You’re hurting my feelings…” Jim’s tone made it clear that he was doing nothing of the kind. “Flip over for me.” He mostly fucked Sherlock on his stomach, and besides, Jim couldn’t get it up against that soon anyway. “If this is my last opportunity then I’m going to take you apart, piece by piece until you’re sobbing and begging me for it, yeah?” The blunt had burned down to nothing so Jim put it out on the ashtray. He had a decent buzz going.

 

"I didn't mean it's your last chance..." Sherlock sighed, rolling over obediently and pushing his aching arse up for more. He'd learnt long ago not to ask Jim to be gentle, or to refuse him. Jim was a dangerous sparking firework; sometimes he wouldn't react at all, other times everyone got burnt. "You can stay, of course you can, I just meant I'd found a friend, I thought you'd be happy for me." He rested his head against the cool sheets, looking regretfully at the burnt-down blunt. "You were pleased when I came back all cleaned up from that excessively dull place my brother sent me. I never know what you're going to care about. It's not my fault Sebastian changed.”

 

Jim sighed when he realized that Sherlock was sulking and genuinely wasn’t going to be interested in having more sex. Jesus. He’d gone to all the trouble of flipping over though so Jim started creating a slow line of hickeys down his spine. “I am happy for you baby. We can stop whenever you want to.” He moved his mouth to leave another mark. Jim was confident that Sherlock wouldn’t want to stop. “So are you fucking?” He was still a little surprised and confused that Sherlock had found someone else after all this time. “Where did you meet him?” Jim went down further. “I was very proud of you. You’re doing well with that. I’m just worried that without me your brain is going to get so bored with someone dull and stupid.”

 

"No don't stop..." Sherlock gasped into the sheets, knowing that he could no more stop Jim now than he could take out the needle mid-plunge. "It's... well we're not fucking. We're just getting to know each other a bit..." He didn't want to admit the truth now - with his arse naked and vulnerable in Jim's hands, "You'll meet him, don't worry. We've had a few dates, lots of talks, some meals together, that's all. I - oh god - I haven't even kissed him yet. I don't know if he'll want to kiss me. But his pulse does quicken when we touch, and he spends a lot of time preparing before we meet and he's taking better care of himself now we're together. I - I probably will get bored without you. But I got far worse than bored without the heroin and I kicked that one…"

 

“Mmmmm,” Jim hummed considering all that Sherlock had told him. He should probably stop but he had a strong urge to leave his mark on Sherlock. Jim wasn’t going to hurt him though. Fun in the bedroom was different than letting jealousy get the best of him and doing something Sherlock didn’t want. “Does that make me heroin?” Jim started massaging Sherlock’s arse in his hands before he brought a hand down hard. He was a little confused about what Sherlock meant when he said Jim would meet his new boyfriend. At first he thought Sherlock was talking about a threesome but if they hadn’t even kissed yet then that was probably off the table.

 

"A-ahh!" Sherlock gasped and twitched as the hand-print slapped down, flushing a little but also feeling his cock twitch a little bit. These were Jim's sort of games, control and an edge of pain with the heat of pleasure and he felt sure in his head that Sebastian Moran would enjoy them even more than he did. "Y-you are a little bit..." he gasped, his arse twitching up for more, "Dangerous and exciting and when I'm with you I find it hard to think... and I'm half worried withdrawal might kill me..." He knew somewhere deep inside him that he would miss this on more than a simply physical level. He didn't love Jim, or anything close, but it was nice to have someone to talk to who got him, who understood deeper concepts, who deduced at a level close to himself, and who was more than happy to be bitchy about a large variety of important people.

 

Jim frowned as Sherlock compared him to the drug. His assessment wasn’t _wrong_ but it wasn’t exactly a favorable comparison. He brought his hand down again, harder this time, as Sherlock pushed his arse back into Jim’s hands. “Greedy, aren’t you? How do you think your friend would feel if he could see you now? Being so good for me…” He was rather flattered by the things Sherlock said. He brought his hand down again, lower down his arse this time. “You’ll still be there, won’t you? I’m still counting on you to help me with the takeover.” Jim wasn’t just asking about business, he’d gotten used to having Sherlock around and even if they weren’t having sex Jim would still enjoy playing with him and picking his brain.

 

Sherlock shivered, burying his head into his arms as Jim's palm continued to raise the heat down the back of his arse. If he'd been thinking properly he would never have answered honestly, but he couldn't work out which lie Jim would prefer to hear. "H-he'd be disappointed in me..." he muttered, "For mistreating my own body, a-ahh... of course I'll still be there. Hurting Magnussen will be an end in itself... oh god..." his body shivered with each slap - with the weed adding to the desperate endorphin high. Weed was relatively harmless, far worse drugs had left him begging Jim for far worse treatment and sometimes Jim had even delivered. "D-don't stop…"

 

Well that was not very sexy. He hit him again. “Well he sounds like a boring fuck. I know you like him, and I’m not saying that he wouldn’t be a good friend, but if you know he’s not comfortable meeting your needs then why do you want him?” He hit him again. That didn’t make any sense to Jim. Most of their sex was like this, he couldn’t imagine Sherlock just having boring missionary position vanilla sex for the rest of his life. “I’m not mistreating you. I’m only doing what you want me to. I can stop you know.” Jim taunted, his voice low and teasing before he brought his hand down again. It left lovely red marks all over his arse but it wouldn’t bruise or leave any welts. Jim’s hand was starting to sting and his cock seemed to be making a comeback. “Are you going to tell him you’re a virgin? That you want him to be gentle and soft with you…”

 

Sherlock flushed, yelping again as Jim's hand cracked even harder against the pale white skin of his arse, which reddened up quickly and obediently under the treatment, "I-I know you're not, I know I want it but... o-oww..." he squirmed, his arse twitching up again, his cock hardening, Jim' taunting words sparking down his spine. "They told us at rehab - you can want something but not _want_ to want it, uhhhh, o-ohhh fuck, of course I wouldn't lie to him. B-but I also want him. Even if it means none of this, o-oh god. I wouldn't lie to him. Not like that. He'll never have that.”

 

Jim paused when Sherlock yelped. This wasn’t anything they hadn’t done before but he wanted to check in and make sure he hadn’t gotten a sore spot or something. “I want you to want me…” Jim sang quietly under his breath before he licked Sherlock’s arse and bit down on the skin of his red cheek. “You mean he wouldn’t buy it. You couldn’t hide _this_ from him if you tried. Go on then, what do you want me to do for you love? Last chance.” This new game was amusing even if presumably at the end he wouldn’t get to have Sherlock again.

 

Sherlock gasped again, moaning as Jim bit down hard, as his cock hardened and his hand flew down to meet it. He wasn't sure whether to continue protesting that it wasn't their last chance, or whether to feel relieved that Jim might actually allow him to separate them both. His hand reached back to rub at the sore skin of his bottom, moaning a little as he felt the heat, "Last time..." he murmured, turning his head to give Jim a cheeky little smirk, "If this is my last hit of you I want to fly higher than I've ever gone before. Burning and sweating and gasping for you with every breath..." he hesitated and then reached around to gently cup Jim's cheek. "Thank you. And I will miss you. And you are welcome to stay and visit any time you like. But I need to stop doing this, even for a little, even just to prove I can.”

 

Furious jealously rose up in Jim but he calmed himself down almost immediately after the impulsive thought took hold. He knew that mentally he wasn’t healthy when it came to sex, Molly had many awkward conversations with him and now it was easier for him to recognize when carrying a thought into words or actions would be crossing the line into abusive behavior. Jim wasn’t going to let Magnussen win, wasn’t going to hurt someone else the way he’d been hurt. Consensually of course, but Jim had to be careful not to manipulate or coerce with his words after someone, usually Sherlock, told him no. So instead of being angry he took a breath and nodded. This would probably have been easier if Sherlock wasn’t leaving him _for_ someone. Still, he was likely to get bored and come back to Jim anyway. He smacked Sherlock’s hand away from his cock. “No touching. Do I need to get your cock ring out? Is that what you want?” He was a little touched by what Sherlock said, and the moment they shared in the middle of the scene and the heat. It wasn’t supposed to work like that. This was only for companionship, to blow off steam and have fun. God damn him. Instead of answering, Jim spread Sherlock’s cheeks apart and licked a long line over his hole. He continued to just lick him, not penetrating him with his tongue for about a minute. Jim wanted to drive him insane, and the cock ring wasn’t actually a terrible idea. “Tell me what you want to do baby. Is there anything you want to use? Anything you want to do?”

 

"Y-yes, ring..." Sherlock gasped. They'd bought it eventually online, after Sherlock had refused point-blank to walk into a sex shop. Jim had said he needed it because Sherlock had no control and Sherlock had unconvincingly pretended to believe him and then had loved it anyway. It was the same with most of their toys. He moved his hand and started fumbling in the bedside drawer for it, his hand movements getting wildly erratic as Jim's tongue got to work, "A-ahh just... anything. Everything. I want my skin hot and desperate, anything you'll miss most of all when we... stop.”

 

Jim was happy as Sherlock came apart under his hands and his mouth, urging Sherlock on. One of his favorite things about being with the other man was his responses. He was always so good about feeling unselfconscious and reacting well for Jim. Sherlock’s hand couldn’t quite manage in the drawer so Jim pulled his mouth away and gave his arse another slap before opening the drawer and digging through it. “Cock ring… cock ring…” Jim was looking for anything else Sherlock might want to use and he found an impressively large dildo that seemed to double as a vibrating prostate massager. “Jesus… you use this while I’m away? Your boyfriend will never let you.” He teased before taking both it and the cock ring out of the drawer. The ring did not go on easily, Sherlock was already so hard.

 

Sherlock gasped and gave out a little sob but didn't complain as the cock ring was forced down over his hard cock, in a way the pain helped to slip it on, while the extra handprint on his arse didn't make it any easier. "Oww... oh fuck Jim..." his pupils were blown, dilating hard and his body trembling as he laid sloppy kisses along the side of Jim's mouth, "mmm... yeah... use that one. He's no good at deducing, he'll never _guess_ I've spent the night being opened up with that monster..." He flushed as he remembered of course Jim hadn't seen it before, he'd bought it when Jim was in Korea. "I got it online. I've fit it in before... once…"

 

God sometimes it felt like he lived for those noises Sherlock made. It was a like a fox drawn to prey by it’s cries and the more noise he got out of Sherlock the more excited he became. “Naughty boy… I think he’ll have a decent guess when he sees you limping tomorrow and looking well fucked. Hold still.” Jim had left the lube out on the bed and he spread some over his hands now. “Well it’ll help that I’ve already stretched you open with my cock. I’ll work you open again and see how it goes. Lube… lots of lube…” Jim decided. “You have to tell me though if it feels like anything is tearing or it hurts too much.” He pressed in two without warning and then added a third almost immediately after, Sherlock really was still loose and pliant after their earlier activities.

 

"Uhhh - knowing him he won't..." Sherlock gave a broken little sob at the thought, that he actually was trading all this for someone so... unilluminated. His backside pushed up greedily as Jim's fingers slid inside, mewing and wriggling as more followed very quickly. He was already fairly well stretched, which helped, and he shivered as Jim called him 'naughty', his cock straining even more painfully against the ring... "I think my cock'll break before my arse does... ohhh..." He'd never had any injury from their sex, no matter how intense Jim got, and the thought made him relax under Jim's hands, letting the young man stretch him open and pull him down into the heady wonderful intense feelings.

 

“I’ll make sure he can’t miss it then,” Jim promised as he scratched little lines along Sherlock’s red flank. He worked his fingers in and out, earning more of those noises and sobs from Sherlock, eventually adding a fourth finger and decided that would have to do. Sort of sticking his cock in Sherlock again he didn’t have any more ideas for stretching him beyond fisting and that really seemed unnecessary. Before Jim put any lube on the dildo he pressed the tip against Sherlock’s mouth. “Get it wet for me.” He told him, watching curiously. Jim still couldn’t perform oral sex without biting and having a panic reaction so he just didn’t do it anymore. He liked to watch Sherlock though.

 

Having the dildo in his mouth was completely unnecessary, Sherlock knew, as it could be lubed up properly in about five seconds, but still he knew Jim liked watching. Closing his eyes, and feeling a small tingle of shame pass through him, he moaned like a whore and spread wet red lips around it, taking it down deep into his throat, feeling all the bumps and ridges and the sheer size of the thing that would soon be splitting his arse. This was his last time, his last big hit, might as well make it a good one and hope that it wouldn't leave him completely overdosed. He couldn't talk with the dildo in his mouth, and he reflected that of all the things he'd said, Jim had never implied that he filled Sherlock's mouth just to shut him up. For some reason that thought made him feel absurdly proud and also tender towards Jim and he moaned harder, licking and fallating the dildo as best he could

 

Jim showed Sherlock a rare moment of tenderness and started petting his hair while he spread his lips over the dildo and sucked on it. He could be gentle but usually that only happened after they were both finished, not in the middle of the scene. Jim let that go on for a couple of minutes until he felt ready to get a move on with things. He carefully started to pull the dildo away so that Sherlock wouldn’t choke on the large object moving in his throat. “Good boy,” he muttered as he started to properly lube up the giant thing. He was fairly impressed, Jim didn’t like penetration very much anymore and he didn’t think he would willingly take anything that large. Jim gave Sherlock a slap over the arse to get him going and then pressed the head against his hole, barely pushing in. “You ready? Are you going to make noise for me? I have to admit I’m a little jealous that this is going inside you and I’m not. I know it will make you feel good though, so I’ll allow it.” That was an exaggeration, part of the game and the scene they were playing. He _was_ jealous but Jim wasn’t that possessive over Sherlock’s body.

 

Sherlock nodded and the moaned as an example, "Y-yess... ready, please..." he whined. He knew that he was still a little sore from the stretch Jim had given him earlier, Jim rode hard and eagerly even when he wasn't rushed, but he was pretty caught up in the scene now, as well as caught up with the knowledge that it would be a very long time indeed, if ever, when he would be able to persuade his new maybe-boyfriend to shove an enormous dildo up his arse. "A-ahhh it feels so big..." he gasped, only half playing the scene, and spreading his knees further apart to try and make more room for it.

 

Jim was fully hard and he flushed happily, breathing getting labored as he slowly worked the dildo inside Sherlock. He really _didn’t_ want to tear him because he knew how much it hurt and he’d be fucking embarrassed if he had to take Sherlock to the hospital and Mycroft found out. Jim just wanted him so much because the other man was so eager for it, was obviously overcome with desire as he spread his legs for him and Jim pressed it in further. It was now about half way inside and Jim suddenly turned the switch to start the vibrations, hoping it would startle Sherlock and help him relax into it.

 

Sherlock gasped, moaning, groaning and occasionally whimpering as the thing stretched him wide. He was used to changing his breathing and now did it automatically, eyes relaxing, arse opening, breath slowing in gentle little gasps as he reconfigured his body to take it easily. It was almost a form of meditation and it certainly cut off the thinking part of his brain - a part which was further cut out as the thing suddenly started to move, shuddering and vibrating inside him. Sherlock jumped like a hooked fish, unable to stop himself twisting around to grab at Jim's arms, holding him close and facing him, his arse sticking out demandingly as he clutched at Jim’s skin. "A-ahhhh... just... oh god.... _more…_ _"_

 

Jim gasped as Sherlock twisted around to grab his hands, for a moment the confidence was gone and he stared at Sherlock in the eye, concerned, because he was sure that he’d hurt him. But then he was moaning and pushing his arse back harder against the dildo and Jim landed an especially hard stroke against his arse with a hand. “I’m trying to be careful, don’t startle me like that. Idiot.” He obeyed though. Jim started to quickly pull the dildo out before slowly working it back inside, pushing further in each time. He was determined that Sherlock would take the whole thing as long as he was comfortable. “How is that? Do I need to turn the motor up higher?” Jim taunted.

 

Sherlock moaned loud at the slap, gasping out a "sorry" that didn't sound sorry at all, wriggling at the hard sting, landing on top of already sensitive and red skin. "O-ohhh, oh no... n-not higher..." he gasped out, eyes wide, pushing himself back a little to fuck himself on the dildo as Jim started to move it in and out. God it was big, the stretch making him ache, and the tense clench from the slap not really helping with that. He was also determined to fill himself completely with it, but knew if he just plunged himself down with no regard for safety Jim would wrench it away and punish him.

 

“I’m sorry darling, but there is no way you are going to be able to leave all of this behind. You’re going to be begging for my cock after a week of holding hands with your boyfriend. Maybe in a year he’ll be ready to give you a hand job.” Jim wasn’t going to keep after Sherlock because he was pretty certain that he would be crawling back to him after a short amount of time. He was such a slut for it and unless this new guy started putting out soon Sherlock wasn’t going to stay interested, Jim was sure of that. He ignored Sherlock and turned the vibration up another notch, about half way to the max setting. “God you really are going to take the whole thing.” Jim watched Sherlock carefully to make sure his frantic thrusts weren’t going to hurt himself. “Tell me what you are going to miss most about being with me…” Jim muttered as he reached down to give Sherlock’s balls a little grope and tug on the cock ring.

 

Sherlock moaned harder as the shuddering vibrations increased, his arse twisting and thrusting around the large size forcing him open, his insides felt like they were being pounded into submission. He was starting to remember why taking a massive hit before trying to quit drugs was such a bad idea, it sucked you in too deep. He whimpered as Jim tugged on the cockring, feeling his orgasm starting to tug through his balls and desperately hoping to suppress it - he had a long while to go. "T-this..." he gasped out eventually, "A-all this. The way you make the world go away, the way you take me over completely, fill my mind, a-and the way you don't think I talk rubbish, a-and you listen to me, and c-correct me sometimes, and then you fuck me and punish me and it's all... t-too much in j-just the right way... a-ahhhh oh fuck Jim…"

 

“You are being so good…” Jim brushed a hand down Sherlock’s back, pressing against the dark hickeys he left on his spine earlier. “No one else is going to make you feel this good Sherlock.” Finally the dildo was all the way in and Jim let it sit for a few moments, vibrating in Sherlock’s arse. “Very good. Tell me how it feels?” Jim reached around to give Sherlock a few teasing strokes of his cock.

 

Sherlock was flushed and trembling, fully opened up by the massive thing shuddering away inside him, still clinging onto Jim as a point of sanity. Biting hard on his bottom lip all he could manage was a noise, trying to keep it positive. When he spoke, finally, his voice was low and horse, "F-feels amazing, J-Jim, s-so big... s-so uhhhh... taking me over." He looked up at Jim with a yelp as his sensitive and desperate cock was stroked, "O-ohhhhh no... please... d-don't... I want to cum, uhhh, so much…"

 

Jim loved making Sherlock talk during sex, loved taking him apart and watching the usually verbose and alliterate man stumble and stutter as Jim brought him closer to the edge. He pressed his hard cock against the back of Sherlock’s thigh and started rutting against him to take the edge off. “What are you going to do about this, hmm? You’ve gotten me all hot and bothered watching you take the whole thing.” Jim took hold of the base of the vibrator and pulled it out before pushing it back in again.

 

"N-nu y-you can't go in there with it..." Sherlock gasped in a shocked voice, gasping a little and letting go of Jim as the other moved, feeling the hard cock against his leg and rutting desperately back against the vibrator shuddering away. He could still feel the burn, which with a cock would have died down by now, instead of expanding to fill his whole world. "P-please, y-you'll kill me..." he gasped and then after a little frown re-arranged the sentence a little, "P-please... kill me…"

 

Jim fell into a hopeless fit of giggles as Sherlock misunderstood him and started whining. “Nooo, don’t be silly. I’m not going to put anything else inside your arse. I want to know how you plan to fix my little problem.” Jim held Sherlock’s hips still after giving him a slap for wiggling around so much then he rubbed against his arse where the dildo was sticking out. “I don’t think you’re allowed to get off until after I do. Do you want anything else? The blindfold maybe?”

 

He whined as Jim started giggling, pouting and wriggling his arse and yelping again as it was slapped further, the shock making him clench tight around the thing inside him which was very much keeping him open, "O-owww... uh... you're so mean... n-no blindfold, I-I want to see you..." He hesitated and then gently murmured, "H-handcuffs or ties m-maybe?" He was trembling now, his skin heated and flushed, and he knew that being tied would make everything even more intense. As long as Jim was willing to do it - there were some thing's he asked for that Jim refused, or blanked at, and right now he was hoping this wouldn't be one of them, "A-and... uhhh... turn it higher…"

 

Jim’s mouth turned down at the corners but he eventually nodded. There were some things with bondage that Jim wouldn’t do — he wouldn’t use handcuffs but ties were okay. And gags were never used, ever. Sometimes Jim would stick something in Sherlock’s mouth on the rare occasions he didn’t want to hear him but Jim would never gag him. He couldn’t get consent if he couldn’t hear him. Jim wiggled the dildo around and hummed, “I don’t know… you still haven’t worked out how you want to get me off.” Jim turned it up again to about seventy-five percent then he went for the drawer and got the ties for Sherlock’s wrists. “Didn’t you have a riding crop lying around somewhere?”

 

Sherlock yelped and wriggled as the dildo jumped up higher, gasping and sweating, almost desperate for the ties now to tug against, "A-ahhh oh fuck, you bastard... y-yes... top drawer, ugh, yes please..." He hadn't had much hope for the handcuffs, he'd bought them once when Jim had been away and the face he'd got when he'd produced them on his return meant they stayed mostly buried under Sherlock's underwear at the back of the wardrobe. He flushed again as he saw Jim wielding the riding crop, pushing his arse up obediently with the dildo visible throbbing away against sore stretched skin.

 

“You crazy bastard… I don’t know why you were so opposed to brining Sebastian in when I was a teen, you fucking love this.” Jim tied off his writs carefully but used knots that were only as tight as you pulled. If Sherlock relaxed he could easily get out of them. Jim swished the crop a few times through the air teasingly before bringing it down across Sherlock’s arse. He was very careful with this one because he could easily hurt him with it and Jim had spent enough time with Cyric and watching him beat Sebastian had all but put him off things like this entirely.

 

Sherlock gasped and cried out as the thin crop bounced teasingly off his arse, the firey line complimenting the stretching whirring ache that was his arse, "A-ah! Sebastian is j-just violent a-and also a dick..." He whined, having to pause, bite his lip, and breath for a few moments before he felt ready to talk again without his cock exploding. Jim usually just used the little leather end of the crop and he'd heard enough about what had happened to take a guess as to why it wasn't often swung like a cane. He gripped the ties, holding them safely so that he could easily slip out if he needed, more to reassure Jim that he wasn't on a suicidal bender of a high. Which, given that it had been _Jim_ who'd almost overdosed and _Sherlock_ who'd rescued him, seemed very unfair. He wriggled his arse up again, knowing Jim wouldn't continue if he didn't. "W-will you do things like this with him?" He whimpered, feeling an unaccustomed and surprising little sliver of jealousy, "O-or will you let him take you…”

 

Jim glared a little and the next strike of the crop was harder. He didn’t really appreciate the tables being turned on him, he wanted to hold Sherlock’s new boyfriend against him, not the other way around. “No one is taking me. You know I only do that shit for work and it’s all fake anyway.” That wasn’t strictly true, Jim had actually been rather fond of the last one, but he’d mostly wanted Jim to top him in a very boring vanilla stare-into-each-other’s-eyes way. “And I’m not doing anything with him. All he did was make fun of the way I look and call me a whore.” Jim frowned and hit Sherlock with the crop again, but this time he was picturing Sebastian’s face.

 

Sherlock arched and moaned, whimpering as he pushed his arse out for the next one and then biting back a proper yell as it swished down hard, knocking into the end of the dildo. If he made too much noise, he knew Jim would stop, ask if he was alright, maybe a few light slaps for not telling Jim it hurt as much as it did. "H-he also threatened you with a knife and cut your neck." Sherlock supplied helpfully, "And you still want him, I know you do. I-I'm not sure he would be as good though, would he really l-let you fill him with something so big? I-I can't see Sebastian Moran pushing his arse out for a spanking either..." the thought made him giggle - Sebastian playing silly little Shades of Grey sex games. And you do look a bit silly like that. Does he still want you? I think he does…"

 

Jim stared at Sherlock for a minute, warring with his temper when he knew Sherlock was tied up and not in any position to fight him off. So instead he grinned evilly and pulled the dildo all the way out of Sherlock and turned it off before setting it down on the bed. “I think I need a break. All of this activity is making me thirsty and you are being a little bitch so you can sit there for a while with your hands tied and a cock ring on and maybe I’ll come back and finish you off.” Jim bent down and pressed a little kiss to Sherlock’s lower back before slapping his arse and standing up, looking for something to cover himself with.

 

He stopped talking as he saw Jim's face, hesitating and biting his lip, looking down and wondering if he was about to unleash a hell of a whipping, and whether or not he rather wanted that. He looked up in shock as Jim finally spoke, flailing and gasping as the dildo was yanked out and making little noises of protest at the sudden cold emptiness in his arse, "Nu - oh fuck Jim, I-I’m sorry, I didn't mean, I'm sure he'll love having sex with you…" He babbled, collapsing in defeat as Jim left, feeling slightly tearful. Carefully, he slid one hand out of the restraint and sniffled a little, wiping under his eyes when he was sure Jim had left the room and reaching back to rub at the heat along his arse, "Bad trip..." he whispered down at the bed, gently sliding a finger inside himself, "I need - need to stop. Yes. Stop this.”

 

Jim stood and pulled on the absurd silk dressing gown that Sherlock insisted on keeping around. Turned out that he couldn’t give up all his luxuries. He was still fucking hard and this little break was as much of a tease for him as it was for Sherlock. His robe tented in the front but he only wanted a drink. When he was sufficiently covered Jim walked out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind him so that he could get to the small kitchenette. No food in the fridge, of-fucking-course. He shook his head in exasperation and stilled as he heard a knock at the door. “I’ll get it.” He called out to Sherlock. At least he was decent and Sherlock was tied up at the moment. Jim was sure he hadn’t been expecting anyone and was curious to see who was at the door. He opened it a little to peek through into the hallway and had a minor shock when he saw who was standing in front of the door. “ _John?_ _”_ He hadn’t seen him in years. Their relationship had never been the same after that summer when he’d been held against his will in his father’s house. As far as he knew John had left the school the same year Jim did and he hadn’t been back. He knew that John had joined the army for a while and that he’d been shot. Sherlock gave him most of the news on his old foster father. He was using a cane now. For a moment he stood there tongue tied, feeling every bit as if he was sixteen again and John had just caught him smoking. “Please, come in.” He offered, opening the door wider. “Sherlock, get dressed!” Jim called out, raising his voice so that the other man would hear him. “John’s here!” He felt awkward, being hard and naked under the robe and it must be obvious what they had been up to. Jim _wasn’t_ a child anymore though and he didn’t feel awkward for long. With it came some of the old resentment and bitterness he felt whenever he thought of John. He’d never expected him to solve his problems or rescue him but as a child Jim had never expected John to emotionally abandon him the way he had in that last year before they both left the school. John hadn’t been in a position to give him aid but Jim had never expected him to just wash his hands of Jim and leave him to the wolves. They really hadn’t had a meaningful conversation since that day when John had come in to bandage his wrist. After that he had never tried to reach out to Jim when he had been at his most vulnerable and alone. Jim couldn’t deny that he was mistrustful of John now and still pretty bitter about what he had considered to be a betrayal. “Have a seat.” Jim gestured to the arm chair, frowning. He couldn’t say he was thrilled to see John but he could at least be civil.

 

There was a sort of squawk from Sherlock as he heard and he groaned, quickly slipping the other hand out of the tie and fumbling with the cock ring, swearing as he couldn't get it off. Jim had taken the dressing gown so he pulled on a big jumper and then wrapped a towel around his waist, stumbling in and blushing a little, his cock thudding hard against metal at the thought that John was here and he was hard and turned on like a naughty teenager. "Um... I was in the shower..." He lied badly, nervously moving from foot to foot, "Is - is there anything you wanted?"

 

John hesitated, looking between them. He still felt hot white guilt every time he saw Jim, which seeing him successful and no longer as badly abused didn't really help with. He'd come to hopefully initiate another small date with Sherlock, but he suddenly felt like an idiot. Clearly the two of them were still an item and very clearly still heavily involved. "No, I just... just... didn't expect Jim to be here." He gave Jim an apologetic smile. "I was passing through. If I'm interrupting something I can leave, really, I'll, uh, call back later.”

 

It clicked then for Jim when he saw how awkward Sherlock looked and John’s upset expression. Huh. Fucking — right. Jim felt like he’d been hit in the gut and he flushed angrily, feeling a little humiliated and lied to. He stared at Sherlock blankly for a long time, ignoring the uncomfortable silence before he turned back and walked to the bedroom. “No it’s fine. I’ll just get my things.” He turned his back to them and tugged the tie of the robe and threw it at Sherlock, walking back to the room with his arse and the full set of tattoos showing. “Cover up, you look ridiculous.”

 

Sherlock felt the erection finally dying down even if it was in pretty terrible circumstances. This really wasn't the way he would have chosen for Jim to find out that he was starting to feel for John, or indeed for John to see that he was very much still messed up with Jim.

 

John looked after him helplessly as he left and then sighed, "I should leave, I've - I didn't mean to disturb you both, or to make him feel any worse. God knows I've put that boy through enough..."

 

"Stay." Sherlock whispered, as quietly as he dared.

 

John hesitated before shaking his head, "Look. You and him - well - you clearly both are... feeling... it's not my business what you get up to in your spare time -"

 

"What if I want it to be..." Sherlock tried desperately, looking up to meet his eyes, "What if I wanted you to care, about me and him, about how I manage to fuck up my body and my mind. What if I wanted you to care enough to want me to stop, to help me stop, because I'm not going to manage it on my own, I'm - I'm not strong enough to pull myself off this kind of stuff without a reason and... you've been the reason before.”

 

Jim hadn’t unpacked his duffle and he was in too much of a hurry to even get dressed fully, all he did was tug on his jeans and grab his shirt and shoes in one hand and the bag in another. He was quick enough that he caught everything Sherlock said. Jim’s head pounded and he was distantly surprised he could still hear Sherlock’s quiet words over the angry pounding of his heart. He hadn’t known that that was really how Sherlock thought of him. Like some kind of drug or disease that leached off of him. Like he made him dirty, like he needed rescuing just because he’d been touched by Jim. He was so so fucking stupid. For years Jim had been Sherlock’s only friend, and really Sherlock had been the only person he was really close to after Sebastian had left. He’d thought he was the reason Sherlock got clean. It turned out all Jim had been doing was fucking up Sherlock’s body and mind, destroying him and sullying him just like everything else he touched. Jim slammed the door open and threw the dildo at Sherlock’s head before storming out in bare feet and bare chested. He slammed the apartment door behind him and ducked down into the stairwell instead of taking the lift.

 

John looked at the dildo, feeling a little faint. "Is, um, is that yours?" Sherlock stared at him desperately, trying to find a way to say what he wanted, worried about Jim. If he tried he could maybe pretend that it was okay because Jim had Sebastian now but he was pretty sure it wasn't okay in any way. John finally sighed and then turned away, "Sherlock, I think you need to talk to Jim to sort this out, not me. I can't rush in and throw you over a white horse and ride you away from whatever situation you believe you've put yourself in. Unlike you, Jim genuinely is in trouble, and serious trouble at that."

 

Sherlock's mouth twisted and he murmured, "This again then. It's all my fault for taking the fucking drugs in the first place, right? Spoilt little rich boy wasn't that what you said?"

 

John stared at him and then sighed with a "right. I think, well, I think this is just sort of proving my point. We aren't exactly made for each other. This is - you want something from this relationship that I can't provide." His eyes drifted to the dildo, "Maybe a few things. Call Jim. Talk to him. Please."

 

With that he left, with Sherlock staring after him. After a few moments Sherlock moved, stepping forward slowly and shaking a little, "Bad." He murmured, "Bad trip.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of drug overdose and suicide, drug use, unhealthy relationship practices.


	3. I'm a Cat Too

Jim walked from Sherlock’s flat to the nearest club, trying to find someone who would give him something to make his head stopped spinning. It wasn’t until he was half way through the transaction in the men’s room with the dealer that he remembered he’d just gotten back and had no cash. That was fine, Jim’s body was like a walking ATM machine for getting whatever he wanted. When the needle pierced his skin Jim was flying and he didn’t have to think about anything. He walked for a few blocks and settled himself in an alley for a while. No one bothered him and Jim stared up at the sky and traced the constellation tattoos on his skin. He remembered that Molly actually lived around here, it was near the hospital and Jim figured it was a better idea then potentially freezing and sleeping outside. Even if he was still high. She would understand. Molly was a very understanding person. Jim stumbled along, stopping once to get sick before he managed to get to her place. He didn’t know if she was home so he scaled the fire escape and made it to her level and slid the window open. That wasn’t safe. She should really lock her windows. Jim climbed in and made a bee line for the kitchen and dug around hoping to find something alcoholic to drink.

 

Molly was curled up on the sofa with Toby the cat when she heard a noise from the kitchen. Hesitating she left the TV running and picked up the remote, holding it like a weapon as she made her way to the kitchen, peeking through the door and then staring with a "Jim!" It was half a question, as she hadn't seen him for months and he looked very odd, hair blond, body drenched, she gave a quiet sigh as it hit her why and she stepped forward, still cautious and defensive. "Jim, love, calm down. Are you alright, are you injured. Let’s get you some food and water, come through to the lounge, alright?”

 

“I didn’t know you were home…” Jim muttered when he realized she was there. He was still flying high and it probably hadn’t been that long since the bathroom at the club. It felt longer though. He might have gotten a little rained on. “I stink don’t touch me.” He grumbled. Between Sherlock and sex in a public toilet then sitting in an alley he really didn’t smell great. “I just need somewhere to stay. I can stay with my da if you can’t…” Jim lost his train of thought as he stared back at the cat who was watching him suspiciously. “He doesn’t like me…”

 

"Don't be silly, you can stay here." She snapped, hoping she wouldn't regret it, "Toby doesn't like anyone, he's a cat, that's what they're like. They give their trust and love exclusively to the person who feeds and strokes them and everyone else gets the suspicious look. Come on." Gently she reached forward, helping him stumble out. "Sit down, I'll get you some water. You can have a bath when I trust you not to try and drown yourself in it. Stay here as long as you need.”

 

“I’m a cat too.” Jim decided but he followed Molly, tripping over his feet a little. Maybe he had forgotten to tie his shoes. “I wouldn’t drown myself,” Jim said, offended. Not because he was very stable minded at the moment but mostly because he’d been drowned enough times in his life that he was so over it. “You’re angry. Everyone is angry today. Sebby tried to cut my throat in a men’s room… He doesn’t like my hair.” Jim wasn’t aware that he didn’t make the least bit of sense.

 

"I'm not angry, Jim love, I'm just a bit confused. I haven't seen you for months and I thought someone was breaking into my kitchen." She smiled at him as he sat, and then fetched a glass of water, shaking her head, "You poor thing. I don't expect you can tell me anything about what you’ve been up to." She frowned at the mention of Sebastian, filing that away for future use and biting her tongue to stop all the questions she had. If Jim was seeing Sebastian again that could bring up all sorts of problems. "It looks fine. Nice. Different. I suspect Sebastian just wanted you to look exactly the same, change often startles people.”

 

“I can’t stay long… I have to go… south… of here. I don’t know where I’m going exactly. But I’m going to erotically choke a man to death, I hope he has a really good orgasm first…” He tried to smiled but his face didn’t want to cooperate. “You weren’t wrong, _I_ was breaking into your kitchen.” Jim sipped at the water, hoping to get the taste of vomit out of his mouth. “No no no he wanted me to be different, the problem is I’m still the same and I’m still on a leash and it makes me _off putting_. We don’t all get to run off and join the army. And my bastard foster father stole my boyfriend while I was away. Fucking… what a dick.” Jim slowly sort of tipped back until he was resting with his head against the back of the couch.

 

"Good lord." Molly murmured, trying to get her head around everything that had happened. "Well stay here until you've collected your little James Bond folder and then we'll make sure you're as happy as you'll ever be before we send you off to your next job." She shook her head, wishing she could provide more than just second-class and highly inadequate therapy and a room for the night. She tossed the remote control to land next to him, "See what's on, choose something you like. I'll get you a sandwich and some clothes you left behind last time. Don't worry about your boyfriend, they're all bastards you know. I'll see if I can rustle up some vodka and Leonard Cohen for you, provided you promise to leave some shots for me. I don't think you're the same at all from when you last saw Sebastian, just being with him brought you back I expect.”

 

“Last job… maybe autoérotique asphyxiation is the way to go… I’ve only done it like that a couple of times…” Jim tipped his head to the side and watched her with dark eyes, his pupils blown wide. “Do you ever think about having sex with me? I’ve never done it with a girl but I could probably make you feel good.” He wasn’t really sure why he was offering, he wasn’t attracted to Molly at all but she was being decent to him and she was the only person who liked him today, even the cat didn’t like him. “I… don’t know what he gave me. Mixing vodka with it is probably a really terrible idea unless you want to play doctor with me again.” He couldn’t deny what she said, Jim felt exposed and vulnerable in a way he hadn’t for years and he was going to fucking blame Sebastian.

 

"No vodka then." Molly smiled, her eyes widening as she heard what Jim proposed. Still it wouldn't be the first time a patient had asked her. Gently she sat down next to him and wondered how to put it without turning him down. "Jim, you're my patient. Besides which, every relationship you have in your life seems to have involved sex at one point. Isn't it nice to have one where sex is completely off the table? Besides which you're currently higher than a kite and in a very vulnerable sort of state. I'd not take advantage like that.” The cat hopped up onto the sofa next to her and pawed at Jim's leg a little suspiciously, "Go on, give Toby a stroke and find something to watch that doesn't tear your eyes open. Then a bath when you feel ready to function again. D'you want some soup?”

 

“Unofficially your patient. And no, it’s not nice. It’s fucking irritating.” He couldn’t control her with it and sex was the easiest way to pay someone back for being nice to him, didn’t she know that? “Suit yourself. I have had sex two and a half times today, I bet you haven’t gotten that much in the last month. Just think of me like a fleshlight. Do girls get fleshlights?” Jim frowned unhappily as he realized he really didn’t know much about girls. “Magic wand then. Whatever.” Jim didn’t want to watch telly, he’d been obsessed with all those Korean dramas and now he couldn’t watch them anymore. He reached out moodily and stroked the cat, expecting it to bite at him. “No soup. Stay here. If I wanted to be alone I would have stayed in the club.”

 

She sat down next to him and gave a little cheeky smile, "Well you might find it's irritating but I think it's good for you. Besides, your therapist, remember? My job is to _be_ irritating and pull your brain out of it's funks by telling it things it doesn't want to hear. And I am telling you, James Moriarty, it's good for you to have a friend you don't have sex with." She hid her concern well as he continued, knowing that he wouldn't want pitying sympathy right now and feeling a little relieved as Toby decided the strange-smelling human provided good enough pats for him to settle down next to him. "The amount of sex I'm having is none of your buisiness. I don't even want to ask about the half. Girls have all sorts of magic toys, really girls are a whole different and complicated world.” She settled down and changed the channel onto some sort of innocuous nature program. "I’m glad you came here.”

 

Jim liked Molly because she smiled at him regardless of what mean things he said to her, regardless of what crimes he confessed to, and she didn’t let him bully her. “I was staying with Sherlock but then I threw a dildo at his head and stormed out.” He smirked and shrugged, “I don’t have sex with Magnussen… you both have terrible taste.” Jim smiled a little as the cat curled up next to him, he liked the texture of his fur.

 

"That, now that is a good way to break up with someone." She admitted, "I mean my last boyfriend he told me next to a vending machine and I went to pieces all over a packet of crisps. Not nearly as impressive as dildo throwing." Despite everything she blushed at the word 'dildo', still not used to saying it, and gave a little shudder, "I'd like to think there's no other way in which I even vaguely resemble Magnussen.”

 

Jim wasn’t really listening to Molly, not because he was being mean spirited but he just got wrapped up in his thoughts and couldn’t focus for very long. He sat quietly for longer than was socially acceptable before saying quietly and slowly, “I always thought that as long as both parties consent and everybody gets off then it wasn’t bad sex. I tried to be so attentive to his needs. I tried to give him what he needed. It’s not about wanting someone else — we were together for a while; I wouldn’t blame him for getting bored. I kept him so happy, I did everything he wanted and he was so humiliated when John found out we were doing it. He wanted John to help him… stop being with me, he told him I was like heroin. And not in some misguided romantic way, Sherlock really doesn’t want to be with me. Sherlock told John that I’m ruining his body and mind and he — he said he didn’t think he could stop by himself. That he needed John to motivate him.” Jim just stared bewildered at the television. He wasn’t used to being so wrong about a person and misinterpreting their feelings. “I did everything he asked for. He felt good with me, at least I thought he did.” There were a lot of ugly thoughts in Jim’s head about John and Sherlock both but he tried not to voice things like that in front of Molly.

 

The silence wasn't exactly comfortable, given Jim's state, but Molly didn't find it overly anxious, or awkward. She sat, quietly sipping her tea and waiting for Jim to be able to talk, feeling very pleased and almost honoured when he did. Getting information out of Jim was sometimes a chore and she was pleased he trusted her enough to open up, at least when he felt vulnerable. "I can't pretend to understand what went on with you and Sherlock, but I know he had a lot of issues, almost all of them involving Magnussen. The trouble with sex is that it's never _just_ sex, it gets mixed up with feelings and emotions and all sorts of uncertain things. Sherlock was addicted to so many things, and he let that addiction define who he was. I treated him a few times ..." She hesitated and decided not to say what for, "I know recently he's been trying to get clean. If he associates you with being addicted to things, and with the time he was a piece of Magnussen's, then he might find staying with you just reminds him of all that. It sounds like Sherlock feels very deeply for you, but still wants to split up with you, and is incredibly bad at finding appropriate metaphors to convey that.”

 

“It was just sex,” Jim clarified. Molly might have been a little bit right, she usually was, but that didn’t mean that he needed to acknowledge that. He’d been burned by what he heard Sherlock say, not just because it was how he felt but because he told John that. “I don’t do anything good, ever. I do terrible things for a terrible man and it only makes him more powerful and he can do even more terrible things. I thought that I was at least able to be — useful to Sherlock. Not good. But I thought he liked having sex with me and I thought that having someone who kind of gave a shit about him would help with some of his problems. I just made him worse. It doesn’t matter if Magnussen started it or not.” Jim didn’t look at Molly, just watched the screen without really seeing it. “John was there. I haven’t seen him in years. Bastard.” Jim really didn’t talk with Molly about John because that part of his life was over and it shouldn’t bother him years later. “Whatever. He’s weak and stupid.”

 

"You know Sherlock enjoyed it." Molly said quietly, "And you know, lots of people find it almost impossible to have sex without starting to get too involved. Could that have been what he meant? That he was starting to get deeper feelings for you and wasn't sure how to stop?" She sighed and then in a moment of unprofessionality she nodded, "Well I agree with you on the weak and stupid although probably for very different reasons. Silly little boy, thinking he could damage his brain with all sorts of chemicals and that he was too smart to get something as mediocre as _addicted..."_ she decided John was not a topic worth talking about and so changed tack, "How was Sebastian? I haven't seen him for years, didn't he join the army?”

 

“No John is weak and stupid.” That wasn’t fair, because there reasonably wasn’t anything he could have done to help. “He was still the best parental figure I had ever had, until I started boning his boyfriend anyway.” Jim shook his head and he was starting to get agitated. “Sherlock isn’t like that. He’s like me. He doesn’t get attached because his brother fucked him up.” Jim finally looked away from the screen and watched her with dark eyes and an unreadable expression. “Don’t play games with me. I might be incredibly fucked up right now but I still know you are doing that thing where you ask a question you already know the answer to in an attempt to get me to give up more information.” Jim over enunciated his words because he didn’t want to slur them at all when he was trying to remember he was smart. “You know very well he joined the army. He was fine. Tried to knife me in the men’s room and mostly he called me a whore and told me I’m hideous and seemed painfully unhappy but I don’t know. He’s a stranger now, trying to go off of what I used to know about him just confused me. He accepted my job offer though so it wasn’t a total waste of time.” Jim was just being moody and purposefully making everything sound more shit and dramatic than it really was because he felt shitty and wanted to be dramatic.

 

"No, I'm doing that thing where I ask a question I half know the answer to in order to start up a conversation." Molly responded, half teasing, "It's a thing human's do, like saying ‘nice whether isn't it?’ or ‘do you fancy a coffee?’ Not everyone is trying to get information out of you." She gave a trouble little expression at the thought of Sebastian insulting Jim so much, "Well it sounds like the army certainly made a man out of him. I'm glad he'll work for you though; don't you dare take any shit from him. If he's changed so have you.”

 

Jim continued stroking the cat and decided to look at it instead of Molly. It was prettier. “Oh yes, the toxic hyper-masculinized violent squaddie. Very original. It’s not like I don’t already have about a half dozen people like that in my life, although I’ve tried to cut the number down some.” Mostly through murder and hiding the bodies. “Do you really think I’ve changed? He seemed disappointed that I’m still here.” Jim let his hand rest idly on the cat’s fur as he got lost in thought a moment. “Do I seem different? What did you think of me the first time we talked after — I was gone for those months?” After Jim killed Cyric his freedom was extremely limited but he’d been allowed to go to the city on spring break with his father for a job and he’d slipped away one afternoon and found Molly at the hospital. He literally had no one else to try and contact. He’d told her some of what he had gone through, some of it was still painted on his skin — just because he had earned a little respect from Magnussen didn’t mean he never got hit again, and that was before he’d gotten his tattoos done, the scars stuck out all over his skin. Jim rubbed self consciously at the draco constellation on the back of his hand and forearm. He’d been such a fucking mess back then. 

 

"Of course you're different." Molly said gently, "You've grown, you're more confident, more certain of yourself, maybe a little more closed off but we've discussed that and you know given your circumstances that's probably the best option. You can handle both yourself and the outside world better. If Sebastian is now all hyper-violent I would be careful, because you were the one who knew him back when he was very vulnerable, and he _knows_ that. You've been through a lot in your past, and you know I'm so proud you're still capable and functional, not to mention still dealing with Magnussen every day." She gave him a smile, watching him stroke the cat, "You would have really benefited from a therapy animal you know, maybe a ferret. I'd have gotten you one if I hadn't been worried that somebody would find out about it and harm it to get to you.”

 

Ugh, Molly was the worst. Why couldn’t she just be impartial and distant like everyone else. Jim stayed staring at the cat for a few moments longer while his insides squirmed. “I should take a bath now. Your couch is going to stink. Do you have an extra toothbrush? My mouth tastes like dick. Oh!” Jim was suddenly a little more animated and he almost smiled, “I sucked a dick in a bathroom. It wasn’t Sebastian’s or Sherlock’s, I realize that might have been a little misleading. It turned out all I needed was the proper motivation, I wanted to get high and had no money and he had no lube so that limited my options. I didn’t even bite. I think it helped that I was stoned. He was nice to let me shoot up first. Where do you keep your towels?” Jim kind of realized that what he was saying was really fucked up but he hadn’t been able to give oral sex for years and it was kind of a victory even if he kind of hated himself just a little bit.

 

Molly listened, then nodded, "Towels are in the airing cupboard under the stairs, spare toothbrush under the sink. Congratulations for managing to get over one of your sexual hurdles, although be aware you might need to take a few moments to deal with it tomorrow. I might have to leave early for work, but I'll leave some food in the fridge for you." She gently patted his shoulder. "I can't give you anything more tonight but I can get you something to help you sleep tomorrow if you're feeling rough and just want to rest for a night.”

 

Jim realized that he was going to feel really shit tomorrow. He hadn’t been this high in a very long time and he hadn’t felt this shit from taking drugs since he’d overdosed four years ago. “I miss Korean food,” was all Jim said before he left to go find the towels and take a bath. He wanted to wash this day off of his skin.

 

* * *

 

 

Jim spent the night on Molly’s couch and when he woke up the cat was kneading it’s claws against the bare skin of his chest. He groaned and resisted rolling over. It was too bright, he could smell cooking in the kitchen that had his stomach rolling and his head hurt terribly. “Fuck Molly… keep your surrogate child and it’s claws away from me. God damn it…” Jim reached up to rub the cat’s ears.

 

"Good morning to you too." Molly called back, "I've taken today off sick to make sure you don't do something regrettable, so my surrogate child is legally allowed to rest his claws anywhere he wants." She came into the room, smiling brightly, and handing him a glass of water. "Yes, this is what happens when you do drugs, bad boy. Yes, you hate me. Drink that and recover a little, I'll keep the curtains closed for you.”

 

“I feel terrible… my last mark had me eating all this healthy food. He was a big all-natural nut. Nuts and berries, protein shakes, juicing… Jesus.” Jim stomach lurched hard but he managed to keep from getting sick all over Molly’s rug. “If you’re little rodent killer here doesn’t move he’s likely to get puked on.” Jim moved him himself, hissing as he unhooked the cat’s claws from his shirt and he sat up to sip at the water. “I do hate you. I still hate you less than anyone else in the world right now.”

 

"That's high praise indeed!" Molly gave him a grin, picking up Toby and moving him, "You see now he likes you, because you're warm and still. I'm pleased you were being looked after in Korea anyway, you do look a lot healthier. Less skin and bones. Let me know when you can face food.”

 

“Your voice… is loud and girly…” Jim rubbed at his head and squinted at her. “I’m going to get sick and let you know how I feel.” He went to the bathroom and did get sick but he brushed his teeth and took another shower and felt a little more human when he came out again. Jim sat at her tiny kitchen table and glared at the plate in front of him. “…I need to talk to Sherlock today. I’m not totally sure I can manage it without doing grievous harm to his body. Have any quick tips, Doc?” 

 

"That's because I'm a loud girl." Molly replied, maybe a little louder than necessary, clearing the table as he went to clean up. She handed him another glass of water when he returned, and a plate with some buttered toast down in front of him. "Phone him." She said after a little thought, "That way you won't have to be in contact with him and nobody will get eviscerated. Also you can stay here while you do it without having to stumble outside into the sunlight.”

 

“…he never answers his phone.” Jim murmured, mostly as an excuse for why he hadn’t thought of that before. “You’re brilliant. That’s why I’m going to pay you millions of pounds to work for me. You can even bring your surrogate child.” Jim made a “gimmie” gesture with his hand and took Molly’s mobile when she handed it over. Jim never kept a long term phone because Magnussen still spied on him and he got new phones for jobs anyway. He had all the important numbers memorized and he dialed up Sherlock, holding the phone to his ear and working out what he wanted to say. The phone clicked and Jim was surprised. “Sherlock? It’s Jim. I’m using someone else’s phone.”

 

Molly handed her phone over and then went back into the kitchen to give Jim a bit of privacy, half listening to overhead just in case things got heated. The phone rang for a while and then was picked up in silence, a voice only speaking after Jim had, "Hi - Jim was it? I'm afraid Sherlock can't quite make the phone at the moment, he's a bit ill. I can take a message if you want?" The voice was Lestrade’s.

 

“Look mate, I don’t care how hung over he is just give him a slap and hand him the phone alright?” Jim paused and tilted his head as his confused and abused mind slowly started spinning and he caught up. “Sergeant _Lestrade?_ Jesus. The fuck are you doing there?” This was bizarre. He’d seen Lestrade around sometimes after he dropped out of school, he still met Mags at his office and sometimes saw Lestrade but they never talked much. He wasn’t so bitter about him as he was with John.

 

"He's not hungover..." There was a pause and then the voice continued a bit suspiciously, "Do I know you... were you, you're not one of Magnussen's contacts are you?" His voice was a bit tighter now. "Listen, I don't know what your boss is using this boy for, but he's in no state for it right now. He's currently locked in a small room shaking and sicking up and he's staying in there for the next two weeks whether he likes it or not. He's as fucked up as he'll ever be and... Jim... not Jim Moriarty?" His voice suddenly grew a lot less suspicious and more friendly, "Almost didn't recognize you, heh. Yeah tell the old man Sherlock's out for the count. Came in this morning after a terrified call from his brother, he crashed last night and almost overdosed. Stupid little bugger.”

 

Jim was a little surprised that Lestrade’s voice got friendlier _after_ he worked out was talking to him. “Yeah… you know I’m still working for Magnussen, if you’re really trying to protect him you really should do a better job.” Despite how defensive and angry he was with Sherlock he still felt his insides squirm when he heard what state he was in. “No, I need to talk to him. It’s personal. I find it very hard to believe that Mycroft Holmes can be terrified about anything, least of all the state of his brother. Fuck him. Just give him the phone. I’ll give him breaks for vomiting.”

 

"Protecting Sherlock Holmes is like trying to protect a sandcastle from the tides - you'll go a long time thinking it's fine and the water is ages away and then the next thing you know it's rising and damn unstoppable, hold on, here we go. Do you want me to let him know it's you or would you be better explaining that yourself?”

 

“Believe me, I know. Just hand the damn phone over. I’ll talk to you after about his care, don’t let him hang up on me. Tell him who it is or he won’t answer the phone.” Jim waited as he heard the phone get moved and bumped around with the low sound of Lestrade’s voice murmuring in the background. “Hey… how are you feeling arsehole?” Jim asked quietly when he was pretty sure Sherlock had hold of the phone.

 

"Fuck Jim I fucked up..." Sherlock rasped back at him, sounding definitely worse for wear, "I - with you, with John, with everything. I just... want to die. Hang on." There was the sound of talking in the background, "That's Mycroft. He chooses his moments to care doesn't he? Now he's leaving his _boyfriend_ here to take care of me. You can come back, if you want. S-sleep on the sofa, stay with me... m-make it better again. I - did you find a place to stay?”

 

“Yeah, you did fuck up but we don’t have to go into that right now. Do you want me to come down? Because I have no problem fucking your brother up.” Jim wasn’t really sure what to do about Sherlock, he was still pretty angry and hurt although he wouldn’t admit that last part. He was kind of concerned about some of the things Sherlock was saying. Maybe it didn’t matter if he was angry, because Sherlock had been with him for his darkest moments when no one else was. He should probably do the same, even if it meant putting his plans to strangle him on hold. “No dying allowed. I need you at peak performance in two weeks.” He just didn’t know what to do. Sherlock was fucked up, the codependency he felt for Jim, and John, was fucked up. “You just want me to forgive you and come back because you got dumped by John last night and you’d rather settle for second best than be alone.” _That_ was probably really unnecessary to say and Jim decided he needed to dial it back before he really pushed Sherlock too far and he caused him to do something he couldn’t undo. “I found somewhere to stay, yeah. Got kind of fucked up. You aren’t the only one that makes terrible decision, okay?”

 

Sherlock gave a quiet laugh at the other end of the phone, "Wasn't this meant to be just sex? Casual, no feelings, no strings. Two incredibly intelligent young men such as ourselves should surely be able to manage that? Two weeks, alright, I'll be ready to go. Just... probably not at any time during those two weeks. Shall we pretend that we managed last night cordially and intelligently and without either of us doing stupidly bad things and saying idiotic stuff we regret. You, well, you know my number. Buzz me when you need me.”

 

At first Jim was insulted and he got his back up when he felt like Sherlock was making fun of him or trying to imply that he had feelings for him, but he heard the self deprecation in his tone and realized what he was really saying. “Yeah. Well… for two smart people we sure do a lot of stupid things. You can call me here at this number, if you need to get ahold of me or you just need someone to put your brother in the hospital. I’ll be gone on another trip soon but I’ll be back. Give the phone back to Lestrade, moron.” Jim’s voice was almost fond but he was still angry and pretty concerned about what he’d gotten himself into with Sherlock.

 

"Mycroft is unspeakable but I suspect the country would crumble if he was hospitalized so please leave him alone." Sherlock said with a sigh, then retched slightly, "I - I shouldn't have said a lot of what I said last night. I know that. It... wasn't good. I'll remember this number." With that he handed the phone back to Lestrade, "Alright? Don't bother trying to contact him for the next week he'll be climbing the walls. Stay safe, okay?”

 

Jim sighed a heavy breath into the phone when Sherlock apologized. He wouldn’t know what to do until he worked it out with Molly. “You’re right, it wasn’t good. Keep in touch.” Jim paused until he heard Lestrade. “Listen, I’ve sat through his withdrawals more times than you or _Mycroft_ have so kindly fuck off with your pandering. And keep his brother away from him, it really doesn’t help. Don’t just lock him in the room, you need to keep an eye on him, treat it like a suicide watch.” Jim said. He wasn’t really sure if Sherlock would do anything to hurt himself but it was very likely with the emotional state he was in, with none of his usual support (Jim) and physically being in such a bad place. “Try and get in contact with Watson if you can, this is his fault. If he can sit with Sherlock sometimes that will help him.” Jesus. Like he didn’t have enough on his plate now he was trying to sort out Sherlock’s situation for him. He couldn’t help it. Sometimes Jim understood where Mycroft was coming from with all of the control he tried to take of Sherlock’s life. He just wasn’t mature enough to be on his own, that was the state of things.

 

"Of course I'll be in there with him, don't act like I haven't done this before." Lestrade grumbled, but he'd never done it before with Sherlock and the information was useful to have, "Alright, thank you. I'll bear it in mind. And Mycroft is off to France to talk about agricultural policies for the next three days and I doubt he'll come home afterwards." He hung up the phone and then turned back to Sherlock with a sigh, "Alright, this won't be fun for either of us, but you know that."

 

Molly came back in as she heard the conversation end, and managed a bright sort of smile, "Everything alright? Is he... oh dear he didn't do anything stupid did he?”

 

“He fell off the wagon and I can’t even take credit and make myself feel terrible about it because I know it had everything to do with John finding out about us and not my storming out.” Jim slid the phone back to her so he wouldn’t give in to the urge to break it. “He’s… not well. He kept offering to let me stay there, he wants me to take care of him. I know he only says that shit because John probably dumped him and he’s terrified of being alone with his thoughts. I feel responsible for him because he helped a lot when I had my — you know, when I hit rock bottom and fucked up.” Jim didn’t like talking about the time he purposefully overdosed on pills and Sherlock had to drag him into the shower and stick his fingers down his throat. Molly was there for a lot of that too. “He wants me to make it better.” Jim could be very cagy with Molly when it came to sharing and talking but sometimes he reached a point where he felt so in over his head that he couldn’t help but just spill everything in a calm and emotionless voice so that she could guide him through it. Jim pretty freely acknowledged his head was fucked up, he made poor choices, he didn’t know what was normal or healthy and sometimes he needed someone to point him in the right direction.

 

Molly sighed and shook her head. "Oh all you high functioning sociopathic psychopaths. You know other people just lock themselves in dark rooms and listen to Nirvana when they get over their heads in a romantic relationship. Not go straight to the class A drugs cabinet. I think keeping away from both you and John is probably a good idea for him at the moment - he needs to sort himself out before he starts trying to form any more relationships with other people and don't start telling me it was just sex again. You know it wasn't. Not for him, and not for you. Sherlock wants someone to take care of him because he's terrified of trying to take care of himself, and every time he does try he tends to fuck up and then have everyone telling him that it's _because_ he tried to take care of himself, sometimes Mycroft -" She cut off abruptly and hummed, "Anyway. Where is Magnussen sending you, if you can tell me without having to kill me. Somewhere nice? And this is me doing that ‘making conversation’ thing we discussed last night, not trying to steal all your important secrets.”

 

Jim gave a hopeless little chuckle, “Is that your official diagnosis doctor?” He thought that her advice was sensible. Jim would have to leave very soon and he couldn’t baby Sherlock for the full two weeks anyway. They were on decent terms and that was as good as it was going to get. He didn’t like that Molly called him out on the nature of their relationship but he didn’t try and correct her this time. “If he actually had feelings for me he wouldn’t try and replace me with a boring old fuck who only does it in missionary position. You should go see him while I’m gone. I think he might hurt himself. He has Mycroft’s boyfriend looking after him.” Jim huffed an aggravated breath but he did feel more in control now that he had a course of action, even if it was ‘do nothing.’ “He just said ‘south’ and that could mean just about anything. Magnussen better not expect me to learn a new language before then, I feel shit and two or three days isn’t nearly enough time.” One of the reasons Magnussen liked sending Jim to different countries was his abilities to pick up languages quickly, but there was no way he could learn more than the basics in that amount of time. He needed to know what passport he would be using so that he could make his look match.

 

"I'll keep an eye on him." Molly promised, knowing that she wouldn't do much more than phone Lestrade a few times. Still Sherlock had the money and resources and friends, or at least acquaintances, to help him through. "And let's hope this new man looks after you as well as the old one!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Drug use, sex in exchange for drugs


	4. I Thought Better of You than This

Jim spent the rest of the day sleeping it off, occasionally sicking up and otherwise bitching about the cat who seemed to want to sleep on his feet or his chest and glared at him reproachfully when he moved. He went to the park at the time and date instructed and met with Magnussen’s man. As soon as he had his new orders and the tickets for the train tomorrow he went back to Molly’s flat and planned for a few hours, using Molly’s phone to call his people and confirm their roles and when everything would go down. Jim left Sebastian for last and he waited impatiently as he spoke to some kind of operator in the army that would get in touch with Sebastian for him. When they asked who was calling he said John Watson as a first line of defense if Magnussen really was keeping an eye on Sebastian. _He_ would if he was Mags and Sebastian was up in the air about being kicked out. At least that way it wouldn’t look so suspicious, Jim knew from talking to Sherlock that John had served and Sebastian and him were stationed in the same area until John was shot.

 

The meeting with Jim had put all sorts of uncertain thoughts in his head, which hadn't shifted at all when he'd landed back in the desert with a sigh of relief to be back in a warm country on foreign soil. He'd stayed in the barracks and training ring, given some brusque and short information for his enquiry, and been told that it was being 'considered'. For the meantime he would stay off active service. He was practicing in the firing range when a man rushed down to say that John Watson was calling for him and he gave a frown and a shrug, coming up and taking the phone, "All right you old bastard, what do you want." He grumbled, waving at the hovering man to run off and leave him in piece. "Need another hole through you?”

 

“I dunno, another hole would actually be pretty useful in my line of work. Hello tiger, have you given anymore thought to my offer?” Sebastian had already technically said yes, but Jim wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to back out and change his mind before giving him more information. Right now Jim was lying across his back on Molly’s couch and staring up at the ceiling as he worked his way through her bottle of vodka.

 

"Jim!" Sebastian sounded excited before he managed to control himself a little, "Oh yeah, that. Sure. I'm just kicking my heels here. They don't want me back in the army in case I'm nasty to any more of their prisoners, but they don't want to let me go in disgrace because I'm the most useful thing they've got out here. And they won't be able to pay for a good enough lawyer. I've got three lined up on my dad's money. So anyway. Yeah, ready when you are boss." He grinned at the phone, out here he was a lot less scared of the demons he'd left behind in England. "Got a bullet with Mags's name on as well, for when you need that.”

 

“I’m going to have a special surprise lined up for you when I come back. I just worked out the final details.” Jim hummed as he thought about what Seb had said. “To prisoners? You’re into torture and shit now? Captain Moriarty would be so proud.” He was cautiously optimistic about Sebastian’s change in mood, how quick he was to call him boss. He wasn’t sure though. It was _possible_ that he could be working for Magnussen but Jim just couldn’t see what he could possibly offer Sebastian to make a deal.

 

"A special surprise?" Sebastian laughed, "Should I be worried? Should I start locking my door at night?" He made a dismissive noise down the phone, "Oh for, it wasn't torture. It was just a few slaps. I look out for civilians, don't you worry, but when some lads been shooting at you all day and you finally get your hands on him it's a bit hard to just pat him on the head and stick him in a cell. Specially when there aren't any cells and you need him to stay put. D'you want me to come back, anyway? I can get a ticket quickly enough, and I'll find a place to stay in London if you're busy. Benefits of having money.”

 

Jim couldn’t help but smile a little when he heard Sebastian laugh. It had just been a really long time since he’d heard him laugh and he had been so grim at the bar. “No no it’s not that kind of surprise. I’m sure you’re disappointed.” He poured himself another shot and drained it before clinking the shot glass on the coffee table. “I’m disappointed. I could use someone with talents like that, although to be perfectly honest my da really has it covered.” Jim shook his head, forgetting that Seb couldn’t see him. “No no… let me explain a bit more of what’s actually going on. I’m taking over Mag’s business. I’m going to try and get as much information as possible on how it’s run and then I’m going to take over. This is all very hush hush of course; I’ve spoken to everyone else so I gave you a call. You can’t fly back to London until I tell you, because it has to be after we’ve secured Magnussen. If he _is_ watching you and sees you’ve come back he might get suspicious. Understand?”

 

Jim's words sent a rush of excitement through him and he practically growled down the phone, "Really? You're taking over?" For a few seconds it flashed into his mind that this might be a trick by Magnussen to check his loyalty and then he decided he didn't care, "Thank fuck for that, I'd happily see the old bastard rot. And I can get information from a bloke as good as the next man, your da hasn't cornered the market for that. I'll keep quiet over here although I doubt there'll be anyone who even knows who he is. Be careful, yeah?" The thought that Jim had grown powerful enough to even consider it was a good thing to know as well, that Jim was finally getting some kind of revenge.

 

Jim shrugged, “What’s he going to do to me, you know? Fuck him. This has been a long time coming, and he should have known better than to make me his enemy in the first place. Sure, I was a kid and I was vulnerable but kids grow up sometime.” He cleared his throat and stared at the bottle blearily, trying do decide if he could handle anymore. “Got my last job today. Turns out this one doesn’t like blonds so you’re in luck. Wanted to tell you so you didn’t get any stupid ideas about me changing my hair color for you.”

 

"Yeah, what's the job?" Sebastian asked, mostly just to keep Jim talking. To hear his voice, to convince himself that it hadn't just been a crazy fantasy or dream. After five years Jim was back, and taking over, and he still wanted Sebastian, which seemed nothing short of miraculous. "What colour have you gone then, red? Multicoloured punk? You'd look good as a punk." He grinned and shook his head at the slight slurring in Jim's words. "Stop drinking, yeah, if you're on a job. And get the fucker tied down quickly, I want to come home.”

 

“Gonna trick a man into choking himself to death. He’s already into that stuff, it won’t be hard. Would have been a matter of time till he put his trust in the wrong person and his partner fucked him over for cash or whatever. Stupid. Yeah, ’s red now. I look properly Irish.” His accent got stronger when he drank. “Listen to you all mature and adult. ‘M not on the job yet, don’t leave till tomorrow. Oh? You want to come home? That’s a fucking first.” There was some bitterness there that Jim didn’t like but talking to him was so hard. Sebastian had almost stopped being real to Jim with how much he’d planned for him and their time together felt like a photograph that he took out too many times and now the picture was worn and dog-eared and he couldn’t even remember the moment anymore.

 

"You always looked Irish, skinny pale little thing." Sebastian said fondly, but it was suddenly a different conversation, and one that seemed like stepping delicately across a half-broken bridge. "I never wanted to come home before." He murmured softly, "Because the only thing I would've wanted to come back for _ordered_ me to stay away. I got damn good at staying away." He hesitated and then murmured as seductively as he could manage, "If I can't kill Mags for you, can I at least put a bullet into Mycroft? Preferably between his legs, I mean he's not using it, is he?”

 

Jim grinned happily at what he considered to be a compliment. “You should think about getting a place here. When I take over for him I’m closing that fucking school. I don’t have anywhere for you to stay right now, I’m crashing at a friend’s. Again, don’t start looking or buying anything until after I contact you, I just want you to have a heads up.” His mouth twisted a little as Sebastian got into why he had stayed away. “Yeah. You are good at that. Doing what you are told.” Jim shrugged and wasn’t sure how erotic he found the idea of murder. He did it on a fairly regular basis and he’d never gotten off on it. “He is using his cock, Mycroft is dating Sergeant Lestrade apparently. Sherlock told me. You were in contact with Mycroft after I dropped off the radar, right? Before you went to Eton and then joined the army?” Jim hesitated and probably wouldn’t have ever asked but he was drunk. That’s what he blamed it on anyway. “Did he ever look for me? Did anybody?”

 

Sebastian sighed, rubbing his forehead with his hand, "Mycroft, yeah. He said you were missing in action. Was saying a bit of shite I think about how he was worried you'd be completely Mags's instrument by the time he'd finished with you. Can't believe Lestrade wants a fucker like that, still he was always a useless wanker. I tried to get in touch with you, tried every number he had, and a few more, think I did almost start another world war at one point, but couldn't find anything to get through. Tried to get up to the school as well, but he stopped me. Told my mother, she got a few Private Dicks out looking for you, they both ended up dead, stupid buggers.”

 

“Jesus…” Jim muttered, genuinely pretty shocked. They hadn’t told him of course that anyone was looking for him, much less that people had died. “You told your _mum?_ How did that conversation go ‘hey mum, sorry to bother you but my boyfriend’s gone missing and I think this mob boss has taken him what do I do?’” He was a little warmed that Sebastian had looked for him, and had tried so many ways. Jim knew when he was sixteen he would have torn the country apart until he found Sebastian if their positions had been reversed. “So what, Mycroft just figured that I wasn’t useful anymore and didn’t even consider taking responsibility?” Jim had known that much, he was deeply angry with Mycroft, and knew if he ever saw the man he was going to hurt him as much as he could before someone stopped him.

 

"That... yes that was pretty much how the conversation went." Sebastian admitted, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against the side of the wall. He was suddenly very, very glad they were talking over the phone, rather than him remembering that horrendous time in front of the new Jim - all controlled and powerful. This was something worth watching out for. "Who knows what the hell Mycroft thought. I never know what he damn well thinks. He might have tried to get you out, he certainly didn't share his methods with me, just had me packed off to Eton until I made a run for it.”

 

Jim had been joking but he suddenly appreciated the position Sebastian had been in a lot more. At the time it had been very difficult to see beyond his own abuse, hearing Sebastian complain about his fancy boarding school had not drawn an ounce of sympathy from him but Jim hadn’t appreciated that Sebastian had been looking for him, that he had very likely been worried sick for months, and then years after. Jim decided to do another shot after all and he drained it and gasped a little when it went down. “I didn’t mean to fuck up your life. I made a lot of bad choices at that age.”

 

"You made bad choices?" Sebastian managed another laugh, hoping it didn't sound as shaky down the phone, "No, you were just in a bad situation. I was the one making fucked-up choices; going to that school, getting mixed up with, well..." He'd not mentioned the Sergeant for years and he felt a sudden shot of physical pain and had to pause for a moment before saying, "Well fuck all that. I'm coming back and I'm coming back with a big fucking gun. Just say when.”

 

That was what Molly told him and Jim thought it was a little funny they would say the same thing. “Is that a euphemism?” He stared as Toby snuck into the room, hugging the wall like he was trying not to be seen. “‘M thinking about getting a pet. Are you allergic to anything? Oh, and speaking of animals, you have to be ready to work with my father and not cause trouble, alright? He’s going to be helping me out with this take over.”

 

"Worked with John Watson didn't I? I can work with him, I can work with your da, 's just professional." Even if it did make him flush a little to think of when he'd been younger, how eager he'd been for Moriarty's approval, how ready he would have been to let the older man take him if the offer had been even barely mentioned. It was, he considered wryly, almost lucky that Moriarty had hated him so much. "I'll do what you need me to.”

 

“Yeah, how was that?” Jim asked, his tone a little sarcastic. “Heard he got shot. How did that happen?” He wasn’t sure how much of his feelings on John he wanted to share with Sebastian, that seemed to be crossing a line into too personal. That was one of a few sore spots he had where he was actually hurt and not just angry. “Did you ask him about me? What did he tell you?” He was trying to put together a map of how much Seb knew about their time separated.

 

"I shot him." Sebastian said a little shortly. "Mistake, friendly-fire. He was in the wrong time at the wrong place. We didn't talk about personal things. Not at all. We were mostly around other people, not much time for discussions or talks about the past. Not that... not that I wanted to remember. It was different. A different world out there. That’s why I stayed so long.”

 

“Jesus.” Jim wasn’t really sure how to feel about that so he decided not to feel anything. “Yeah… no I get it.” He was pretty confused about Sebastian, it seemed like they had taken pretty opposite approaches to dealing with things. Jim had spent a lot of time remembering Sebastian and the past, it was his motivation to keep going because he’d hoped that he’d be able to have it for real one day. Over time his motivation changed and he grew up and realized it wasn’t likely to occur. “Do you have anything you want to ask me?” Sebastian was bound to have questions, Jim seemed to have a million things he’d wanted to ask but never had the opportunity.

 

Sebastian hesitated, pausing and then banging his head against the wall. Of course there were a million things he wanted to ask _how much did he hurt you, what have you been doing, can I sleep with you again, do you still love me_ none of them seemed appropriate, and particularly not appropriate given they were several thousand miles away from each other, "Um." He managed, then swore under his breath, "Do you actually want me to bring back my rifle? I can take it through a diplomatic bag, I know a bugger who has one and owes me a favour.”

 

There was a long silence and Jim banged his head against the arm rest of the couch, irritated with himself for asking such a stupid question. Their relationship was obviously — professional and everything and he shouldn’t be inviting personal questions when Sebastian wasn’t interested in that kind of camaraderie. Jim was part of the past and Seb didn’t want to talk about it. “Uh. Yeah. Couldn’t hurt. I don’t know of anyone who I need killed from a distance in the near future but you never know.” It was good to keep it professional, Jim wasn’t even sure that he could do anything else. He’d killed everyone he’d had sex with in the last five years except Sherlock and one guy that got away, his one failed job. “My job should take about two weeks. Expect to hear from me then.”

 

"I'll be waiting." Sebastian said with a chuckle and then, "'S good to hear from you again boss." Before he quickly put the phone down. Once it was down he banged his head hard against the wall again with a groan. Now he'd satisfactorily sounded like a useless schoolboy rather than Jim's trusted companion he was pretty sure Jim would simply hang up and laugh. "Fuck me. Could've asked something actually useful." He muttered.

 

Jim heard the line go dead and he sat there for a while staring up at the ceiling and trying to avoid playing the conversation over and over again and looking for hidden meaning that just wasn’t there. He wasn’t nearly drunk enough and Jim hissed childishly at Toby when he curled up next to him on the couch.

 

Jim sat spread out across the back seat of his father’s car with his arm stretched over his eyes to block out the sun. He’d just gotten picked up from the station after his last job. The mark, a man named Dr. Frankland, was working as a scientist in the Baskerville military facility. It wasn’t hard to make a connection with him, that area of Dartmoor seemed pretty isolated, not a lot of people. Magnussen’s profile had left out that Frankland liked to rough up whores, nothing too terrible but Jim was sporting a few more bruises than he’d had when he left. It was alright though, stupid bastard had been _so_ eager to try out the rope and noose Jim had rigged up. The man hanged himself, never suspecting until it was too late that Jim wasn’t going to let him down when he signaled him. After Frankland had gone still, Jim searched his home office for the information Mags wanted and he found some interesting things he wanted Sherlock to look over as well. He took what Mags wanted, and the folder he found on a project called H.O.U.N.D and hopped on the first train back to London and then up north where his father picked him up. “Are you sure everything’s ready?” His father asked, “I don’t want you to fuck this up, it’s better to put it off if you can’t do this.”

 

“I’m fine.” Jim bit out in irritation. Right now his tattoos were all covered with special foundation for hiding tattoos and bruises, he made liberal use of it. Frankland hadn’t liked tattoos and besides that it made him stick out too much in that town anyway. The car pulled up and Jim and his father walked up to Mags’s office. “Lets get this over with.”

 

Magnussen was waiting inside the office, looking up as they both entered and raising his eyebrows, "Well?" His eyes flicked over Jim; the foundation and disguise being taken in as well as the few new bruises hidden beneath it. "Successful I assume, I've already heard of his death, the tabloids are having a wonderful time. Did you find me what I needed?”

 

“Course I did,” Jim answered easily and nodded to his father who was carrying his bag.

 

James opened the zipper and reached inside but instead of pulling out a folder or some papers he pulled a gun and he pointed it at Magnussen’s head from across the room. “Sorry boss. Put your hands above your head. Don’t even go for that panic button, I know it’s there. Push it and I’ll blow your fucking brains out.” He tossed Jim’s bag on the floor so that he could have use of both his hands.

 

Magnussen watched them both, raising his eyes again as he lifted his hands, "Oh dear, Moriarty and son. This is going to be my last warning, because I don't take kindly to being threatened by my own men. Put the gun down and I'll let your son live and I'll even kill you quickly. That is my genuinely last offer because he is a good assassin and I am pleased with the work you've done. Keep up this silly game and you will both be suffering far, far, more. I don't think I need to tell you what would happen if you were stupid enough to actually kill me." He gave a small tight smile.

 

After all those years of obeying Jim’s first gut reaction was still to call it off, to submit and keep his head down. He’d been playing this game for far too long. “Please, don’t embarrass yourself and pretend like you didn’t see this coming Charles.” Jim said, a little condescendingly. “But please, do tell us what happens when we kill you because right now I have zero incentive to keep you alive.” Jim lied easily. He had several incentives but nothing pressing enough that he wouldn’t let his father shoot him if he caused too much trouble. Magnussen wasn’t getting out of this alive. There was no way around that.

 

“Step away from the desk, come face the wall. Do _not_ move your hands, place them behind your head.” James Moriarty was going to pat him down and take his mobile and anything else he had on his person. The phone would be useful for Jim.

 

"There are men outside this room, there are men both outside and inside this building, and you're on the CCTV." Magnussen said calmly, moving as they instructed. "If you shoot me dead you won't get out of the building and I have detailed, _detailed_ instructions as to what should be done with anyone who leaves me dead. That was your chance, by the way, now you'll suffer, truly and considerably. Jim, you still have one chance to live, it won't be a pleasant life and it won't be a fulfilling one, but you still have a chance to live it." He fell silent as Moriarty patted down over his clothes, taking the phone away. "There's nothing on that. Nothing you don't know. You know where all my information is kept, Jimmy.”

 

“You’re lying.” Jim said easily as he watched his father handcuff Magnussen’s hands behind his back. “I can tell when you’re fibbing Charles. Maybe I wouldn’t know you so well if you hadn’t told me so many lies.” It made Jim so angry that he still felt that urge to buckle, that his fear of what Magnussen could do to him was so deeply engrained that even with a gun to his head Jim still didn’t entirely feel like he had the power in the situation. “Take him.” They were just moving Magnussen to his father’s building. “If you try and run, he _will_ shoot you in the leg. I’m not feeling generous about offering you medical attention so I wouldn’t push it.”

 

"Why would I run when people would come running to me?" Magnussen replied, just as calmly. "You see now Jimmy, you put me in an unfortunate situation. You know that I will kill you for this, but at the same time I don't want you to feel you have nothing to lose. Could we both pretend that I will merely have you raped, repeatedly and violently, for the rest of your days? You were a wonderful little assassin, and we could have made something worthwhile of you. Something better than this at least." He was ignoring Jim's father completely.

 

“Stop,” Magnussen knew that he didn’t like to be called that, he was using all of the tactics that Jim had worked out on his own and with Molly, the tactics to control him. Jim wasn’t going to let them work this time. “Stop talking or I will have you gagged. Don’t pretend like you were doing me any favors. I’ve moved on, you just didn’t offer room for promotion. I think something in management would suit me better. Now move.” Moriarty stepped back and kept the gun trained on Magnussen as he kicked his legs a little to get him moving.

 

"You want a higher position?" Magnussen gave a laugh, stumbling a little and putting his hands on his head, "Oh dear, oh Jimmy, how would that work? You are too unstable, too damaged, too broken. If you had been brought up properly and not _ruined_..." he shot a disapproving look at James Moriarty, "You might have been great. If you'd had a chance to learn properly, if you'd applied yourself and not just sulked and whored. But a good assassin is all you'll ever be and if you even try to force yourself higher you'll fall, like Icarus. Burned by the sun and drowned by the waves, and there is so much that will burn and drown you.”

 

Jim kept his face blank. He had expected this. He knew Magnussen was going to try and use that shit, the worries he had in his own head against him. “I’d rather crash and burn now than wait a few more years until I’m burnt out and you throw me away. I’ve never been afraid of dying.” Jim wasn’t going to let himself be fazed. Everyone was counting on him, he’d already won and Magnussen knew that. Jim was going to be free, ideally that was in control of Magnussen’s ring, but even if he just left it all to crash and burn, Jim wouldn’t work under him another day. “If I was so unstable and damaged you shouldn’t have targeted me in the first place. You can’t continue to traumatize someone and then hope they just mellow out as time goes on. You played a bad game Magnussen, and severely mishandled me as a resource. Keep moving.” They made it outside and they crossed out in the open to Moriarty’s building. “Well look at that. No one here to rescue you Charles. You should have made more friends.”

 

Magnussen's eyes flickered behind the glasses and for the first time he looked perturbed at the silence. "I don't know what you're hoping to gain Jimmy," He said quietly, "Is this your idea of revenge, in some way? Because you might have temporarily gained this place but you'll never keep it and you'll never hold it and Moriarty?" He gave a little laugh, "You... you're an excellent bully but a leader? No. Not at all. The father-and-son Moriarty, trying to bring down my empire? You'll bring it down alright, but it will crumble around your shoulders because you'll never keep it. And that, you must admit, that'll be a pity.”

 

“Shut it,” Moriarty said, sounding bored. Unlike Jim he had training and a lot of psychological defenses. Jim had them as well, but there were weak spots and places the walls could fall down.

 

“Yes, this is revenge.” Jim said, “I’m mostly interested in your death, and torturing you first. Your empire? That’s a nice bonus but even if it doesn’t work out, I’ll have what I want. And I can always rebuild.” They made their way inside and Moriarty led Magnussen down to the basement.

 

"That's all you want? You're more disappointing than I thought." Magnussen murmured, turning to give Moriarty a small smile, "You're right of course, and I won't bother you any further except to say... really? Your son? All the people you choose to trust with something like this and it's... him? You must care for the little bitch after all, hmm? It must be familial sentiment motivating you because it certainly can't be logic or sense, ah..." he stopped as they entered the basement and turned to face Jim. "Please. Jim. Reconsider this very stupid move.”

 

Moriarty ignored Magnussen outright. He hadn’t made a study of Magnussen as much as Jim had but he was very familiar with psychological tactics and he didn’t take the bait. Jim only tilted his head and smirked as he watched his father secure Magnussen to the wall. “Why should I reconsider? You haven’t even made me an offer beyond _I’m going to rape you until you die_ and to be honest, that threat is getting a little tired. You’re the one that’s disappointing, Charles. Hit him.” Moriarty moved forward quickly and struck him across the face with the gun, opening up his lips so blood spilled from his mouth. 

 

Magnussen looked up at Jim, falling silent as he was struck round the face, his glasses falling askew. He looked back up at Jim, eyes mild and milky and gave a little shrug, "What is there to say? If I escape this, I will kill you. If I am rescued you will be killed. If you kill me I will die and you can be very satisfied with revenge until you die very shortly after. What words do you expect me to use? Will any of them change your mind?”

 

Jim shook his head, “Nothing. You fucked up, you’re going to pay for it, in every possible way I can think of. Then you are going to die and I’m going to take everything you’ve built. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to make some phone calls.” Jim turned and started to make his way back up the stairs. “Just be happy, Charles, that I already dealt with Cyric and he’s not here to play with you. Although, I don’t think even he would want his dick in your crusty arse.” At the top of the stairs he stopped and turned around to face his father. “Warm him up. Avoid his head, I need him to answer questions later. Have fun.”

 

Magnussen looked at Moriarty as Jim left and said calmly, "I thought better of you than this. Taking orders from your son? That would be sad enough if he were organised and competent." He fell silent then, as James started to work, closing down his outer functions quickly, and retreating into a small room in his mind, bolting and locking the door behind him.

 

Jim shut the door to close up the soundproof room and kept it quiet so that no one would be alerted earlier than what they planned for. Jim pulled out Mags’s mobile phone and found John Watson’s number. “John Watson? This is Jim Moriarty. I’d like to speak with you for a few minutes, is this a good time?”

 

"Jim? I... suppose so..." There was a little sigh from the other end, "Look. I'm very, very sorry about the other day, I didn't know you'd be there and it was... clearly a bad time for both of you. You and Sherlock, well, you're probably better for each other, and I was a fool to try and, well, to try and get back into touch with him. I thought... I thought a lot of things. I don't want you feeling that Sherlock is somehow 'mine,’ or we're in competition, because it really isn't a competition…"

 

“You think I called you from Magnussen’s phone to talk about your sex life? I will say that it’s up to Sherlock and he wants you, so you should go for it.” That was quite fucking enough. “I currently have Magnussen held at gunpoint and we’ve estimated his reinforcements will show up in the next ten to twelve hours and I wanted to offer you the opportunity to make up for all the shit you let me go through. Interested?”

 

"What?" John took a moment to readjust from the conversation he'd thought they were having. "You have Magnussen at gunpoint - that is extremely dangerous. I haven't heard anything yet, which means you've got away with it for now, but any minute now things are going to start moving and you will be in a lot of trouble. A _huge_ amount of trouble. You might like to consider that even Mycroft with the full weight of the British government has never tried to have him assassinated before. What do you want me to do?”

 

“No shit, tell me something I don’t know. Magnussen made sure to give me the whole spiel — they are going to catch you and I’m going to rape you for the rest of your miserable life, same old threats.” Jim leaned against the wall and peeked out of a window suspiciously. “Yeah well Mycroft Holmes has never been pushed as far as I have, he has everything to lose and I have nothing except this moment. I’ve been building up to this for so long, and I have allies. And Mycroft isn’t a professional assassin, he’s a glorified paper pusher. I want you to get yourself up here as soon as you can. We have plenty of guns, we are going to be preparing the area for an attack and I just need as many steady hands to hold a weapon as possible. If you aren’t interested then don’t worry about it.” Jim frowned and turned back to his father’s kitchen to make himself some of that nasty coffee his father liked. “To be perfectly honest I don’t even know why I’m calling you. I don’t expect you’ll want to get yourself involved now of all times when there’s so much more for you to lose. Here’s some motivation for you — Sherlock’s coming up here, and if we get overrun he’s going to be taken with all the rest of us. If you give a fuck about him then you should get up to the school as fast as possible.” Jim knew that John wouldn’t give a damn if it was just him and his father, except maybe to hope they won out, but maybe Sherlock would provide the right pressure.

 

"Jim don't say that." John said in a slightly pained and guilty voice, "There are a large number of reasons I might not want to take part in a suicide mission against my own boss - and why on _earth_ have you dragged Sherlock into all this?" His voice suddenly became angry, "Sherlock is currently withdrawing from hard drugs at his brother’s house, he should _not_ be involved in all this and quite frankly neither should you." There was a deep sigh from the end of the phone, "You know I am half tempted just to call the police, but I know that would leave you in even worse trouble. Do you need me to bring a gun down, or do you have plenty there? And I'm _not_ going to shoot civilians for your twisted idea of revenge.”

 

Jim grit his teeth, his face twisting up bitterly as John gave him that false sympathy. He knew it was fake because just a minute later John was yelling at him. “Fuck you. Don’t act like you give a shit about me and then tell me _I’m_ the one in the wrong, just because I have the strength to act. No one else was going to save me, I had to do it myself and now you are going to lecture me like a naughty child because I’m going to fight back against the very same people who would otherwise brutalize me. Peace doesn’t solve anything in this situation. You aren’t a pacifist John Watson, you’re apathetic and weak and if this turns your stomach more than what you watched them do to me then you are just enabling them. You are part of the system of power, you benefited from what they did to me, and now that you have a chance to make it right you want to stand on the side lines and take the moral high ground.” Jim’s voice was vicious and biting and he knew he needed to put his personal feelings aside. “The more men I can get here, the less of a suicide mission it will be. Sebastian’s going to be here and if you come with the intention of putting a bullet through my head I can promise you he won’t hesitate to put another hole through you.”

 

"Why am I not surprised that Moran is involved in this." John growled, glaring at the phone. "Are you at the school? I'm coming there, and I'm coming with a gun, and I suggest that you find some way of at least evacuating the kids out of the damn place before the cavalry arrive. Don't for a moment act like me agreeing to come and help you stage your incredibly dangerous coup is giving me any sort of 'redemption' for god’s sake. I'll bring my gun - there's more of them and ammunition behind the training hall - in that little bunker that looks like it should store coal. Please be careful." With that he hung up before Jim could lecture him any more.

 

John was right about the kids, of course Jim had a plan for that. Surprise survival exercise. The teachers were going to take them all out into the woods and leave them there for a next couple of days until things quieted down, simple as that. He took a deep breath to get his cool and then took a long drink of the brewed coffee before dialing the army number to get ahold of Sebastian. “Jim Moriarty for Sebastian Moran.”

 

There was a bit of bureaucratic arguing at the other end and then Sebastian answered the phone, "Afternoon boss! Want the good news? I'm not being court-martialed. What's the news your end, can I come back yet?”

 

“Thank heaven for small favors. I need you on the soonest plane here. Magnussen’s people will be here, probably in the next twelve hours or so, and we need to fortify the school. Bring your rifle. No idea how many people we should be expecting.” Jim had so much going on in his mind right now, it felt good. There were so many preparations to be made.

 

"Twelve hours - fuck... I can get on the plane in six, journey will take seven hours to Heathrow, then I've got to get all the way up... fuck..." There was a short moment of silence and then Sebastian said, "Alright, I can get the diplomatic twat to pack my guns and then tootle us up from Heathrow in his private toy plane. It's still going to take just inside of fifteen hours before I get there. Will I need to fight my way in?" Sebastian suddenly sounded a lot more enthusiastic. “Tell you what, I'll commandeer his phone." He rattled off a number. "Call that any time, I'll answer you and let you know where we are. Right?”

 

“Why the _fuck_ is it going to take you six hours to get on a plane!?” That was not right. Jim couldn’t have handled this another way but Sebastian could not afford to be that late. “Listen, you know how it goes. This is likely to be over in minutes; we can’t draw this out until you get here. Don’t fly here from Heathrow until you get a call from me, it’s possible that we’ll be fucked by the time you get here and there’s no sense in you getting caught too if we can help it. Shit.” Jim had been counting on Sebastian to be there.

 

"Because there are two fucking planes that leave from Kuwait city - and the next one leaves in six hours, oh FUCK. Alright..." Sebastian growled. "If you need me there in the next twelve hours I'll be there. And let’s hope what they say about huge amounts of money getting you out of trouble really is true. Don't worry, I wouldn't miss this scrap, specially if it's the big one.”

 

“It’s going to be a big one,” Jim promised. “I realistically don’t know how many people we should be expecting. No point in trying to work it out of Mags, he’ll just lie through his teeth. It could be two people or it could be twenty, I don’t know. Bastard doesn’t keep anything written down, I knew he’d have reinforcements and the best way to keep them from getting called early, but I don’t know what they will entail.” Jim was pretty handy with a gun, although he did better shooting someone up close than using a rifle. He was going back and forth between joining the fight and waiting with Charles in the basement with a pistol and killing them both if his side didn’t win out. Jim would walk away or neither of them would, it was that simple. “Just get here.”

 

Sebastian put the phone down and then bit his lip. Heading out of the building he quickly strode back to his room, grabbing his combat gear and putting it on, then a duffle bag which he filled with as much of his gear as he could: knives, guns, weaponry, and as an afterthought some high-carb snacks and a bottle of lucozade. Grabbing the bag he headed purposefully towards the airfield wrenching at the arm of one of the American pilots as he went, "Alright, you, what's your name? Don't care, I'm calling you Yank. Need you to do a job for me. Top secret, very important..." He hesitated as he looked over the small light aircraft lined up on the field and then grinned, "Actually, I've thought of an even better option. This is covert operations, you don't need clearance, you don't need a sign off and I'll blow your fucking brains out if you refuse, now move it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Threats of violence


	5. Its been Fun Tiger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while since there was an update, I got sick and didn't have the energy for editing. Updates should hopefully be more regular now.

Jim mobilized his men over the next few hours, despite what he told John, Sherlock was not called in, except Jim did call him with a list of ingredients for this HOUND thing and to let him know he did have Magnussen contained. The children were all taken into the woods and most of the staff stayed out there to supervise. John Watson and Moriarty were stationed in strategic places, on the rooftops, there were traps littered around the school, and even with just two men Jim was still feeling pretty confident. At the moment he sat in a chair in the basement, the door locked firmly behind him and a pistol in his hand. Magnussen would not walk away. Even if he had to kill the both of them. The man was a sorry sight, even just thirty minutes with his father left the man looking rather worse for wear. His head was untouched though and that made Jim pleased. He’d still be able to think then.

 

Magnussen looked over at him, crawling out from the place he'd locked himself in his head and wincing a little at the pain sparking all over his body, watching Jim, "Please tell me you had a better plan than this." He said softly. "Three people with guns? Is that all?" He fell silent again, not wanting to waste words and breath, keeping his strength up as the hours went by. The hours stretched out; Magnussen dozed and waited and tried to stay comfortable.

 

Jim sat with Magnussen in silence for what felt like hours. The room was sound proof, there was no way for the two of them to know what was happening until the fight was settled, with a victor. There was a hard bang on the door and Jim almost startled, his hand tightening around the pistol in his hand. “Fuck…” He whispered, feeling his stomach drop. That was it then. John and his father both knew to call once it was done and not to try and enter until they got permission from Jim. He stood, cracking his neck and pointed the gun at Magnussen’s head. It was better to end this now. He wouldn’t let him win.

 

Magnussen looked up at him, eyebrow quirked, "Really? That's your answer?" There was further banging on the door, and the sound of something being set up outside, "You think your best option is to kill me? They'll blast into here and if you're alive and I'm dead you'll be physically torn apart." He hesitated, then licked his lips, "Jim... your father is the one that can be blamed for this, you know that don't you? It doesn't have to be you…"

 

Jim shook his head, “I would rather see you die then live, that’s how much I hate you, you son of a bitch.” He readied the weapon and pressed it against Magnussen’s forehead.

 

"Silly boy. They'll get through. From now on, you'll just suffer. Nothing more. Until I decide to kill you..." There was another series of bangs on the door, another scraping sound and then a ring from Jim's phone. Magnussen raised an eyebrow and nodded, "Answer that? It might be your father, with a bold new suggestion, maybe one of your supporters asking what they're meant to do now you're surrounded and trapped."

 

Seb was on the other end of the phone, whispering, "Boss? I'm here. Can't see you, can just see a lot of twats running around like ants. Where should I go?"

 

Jim pulled out his phone and the gun wavered in his hand for a moment he was so deeply relieved to hear Sebastian’s voice. “You silly twat it’s too late. You can’t take them all on by yourself. I’m cornered in here with Mags and it’s only another minute or two before they get through. If they haven’t seen you already you need to leave. Understand?” It was weakness but Jim was glad that he got to say goodbye this time. “It’s been fun tiger. I’ve got to finish this between Magnussen and I. Don’t worry about me, yeah? I won’t let them take me. I’ll eat a bullet first.” Jim smiled sadly, swallowing hard. “If you’ve got anything you want to ask, now’s the time.” He referenced their phone call from a few weeks ago when Sebastian had given him a bullshit question.

 

Sebastian gave a grin smirking at the cowering American pilot next to him. "Well, whatever you say boss, just let me know where you want me to park my stealth bomber. You wouldn't let me come over here in a commercial plane so I stole a B2 - and a pilot but he says he won't shoot anyone and he'd like to go home. I've got pretty much all of them in my sights and I've got my knives and gun here to take out any that manage to run. So... you've got that option." He gave a laugh, "I think they've seen me... I mean it's a stealth bomber but it's not fucking invisible. The sights on this thing are incredible, I think I've just seen a guy piss himself.”

 

“I fucking hate you,” Jim deadpanned, all sentimentality gone. “You have a — never mind. Stay exactly where you are. I want you to get ready to fire something heavy at my father’s house, missile, bomb, whatever the fuck you’ve got. I’m going to try and talk our way out of this. Cunt.” Jim went forward, still holding the gun on Magnussen and unlocked the door, letting a few men in. They had John, bound and looking a little beat up. The sergeant led the group. Where the fuck was his father? “Gentlemen.” Jim greeted them, pressing the muzzle of the gun to Magnussen’s temple with the phone held against his ear with the other hand. “This is my offer. You walk away, leaving Magnussen and dear _Simon_ here, and I won’t tell my sniper to blow up this whole fucking building.”

 

"Hate you too boss." Sebastian answered smugly, "Yep, I'll get it aimed and ready to go, I'm not a gunner but if I can't hit the ground from a plane there's something seriously wrong with me." The men entered the cellar pausing as they saw the gun, holding John with a gun pressed to his head, John's eyes widening as Jim spoke.

 

Magnussen paused and said quietly, "It's a bluff. He doesn't have a sniper, and nothing will blow up."

 

The men paused and Simon cleared his throat and then managed, "There's a B2 stealth bomber above this building Sir..."

 

Magnussen blinked, looking lost for words and Seb crowed into Jim's ear. "I think I've found the bombs! It's really simple, there's just a lever, let's hope these suckers aren't nuclear.”

 

Jim smirked at CAM triumphantly, tapping the side of his head with the gun. “Right. Make your choice gentlemen. But before you do anything I suggest you let Watson go. Now. Don’t believe me about the bombs?” Jim took the phone away from his ear and pushed a button. “Moran you are on speaker. Say hi! Repeat the last orders I gave you, just so everyone here is clear that I will abso-fucking-lutely tell him to take down the whole building even if I’m still inside.”

 

"Yo." Sebastian cleared his throat and then thought back, his voice growing more serious and professional. "Moran reporting from the B2 bomber - last orders received were to stay exactly where I was; currently location directly above Moriarty's house at the school compound, and prepare for launch of missiles towards house, specific orders being to send, quote, ‘whatever the fuck you've got.’ Which consists of four medium missiles which will absolutely hit the ground pending the presence of gravity. Currently holding and waiting for more orders - " as he finished speaking Simon, who had worked out how this would probably go, launched himself at Jim, throwing himself onto the boy and trying to wrestle the phone away from him while a few of the men, certainly those near the back, made a quick exit.

 

Jim’s finger tightened around the trigger as Simon tackled him to the ground and the shot went wide, missing Magnussen but burying a bullet in the wall by his head. The result though was all their fucking ears were ringing and Jim almost lost hold of the gun. He fell backwards and his head cracked against the tile floor. He almost yelled out and told Seb to just blow the whole place sky high but John was still there, staring at him in fear and Jim had a personal revelation in that moment where he was struggling for his life with the sergeant. He didn’t hate John Watson quiet as much as he thought he did. Jim swore and wiggled and kicked until he had the gun pressed against the Sergeant’s jaw. “Stop.”

 

Simon fought back, hitting every part of Jim he could as the rest of the men scattered behind them, realising that while Simon had nothing to lose, they certainly did. Magnussen looked alarmed, but kept quiet, while John struggled against the ties and hissed little swearwords, grabbing at Jim's phone with his tied hands and shouting at it "Sebastian, wait, please. Jim's fine..." He breathed a sigh of relief as the Sergeant stilled, stumbling over to tread on his ankle, "You, stay still. Jim... here's the phone. Simon both Jim and Moran are more than capable of killing everyone in here so please... just stay still.”

 

Jim wheezed as he scrambled to his feet, the gun pointed directly at Simon now. He’d gotten him quiet a few times, and _Jesus_ that man could hit hard. He felt dizzy from hitting his head so hard against the tiles and he saw blood smeared across the floor, probably from their scuffle. “Yeah…” He breathed as he bent over carefully to pick up the phone, keeping the gun trained on Simon the whole time. “Moran? S’ok. They surrender.”

 

Moriarty came in, grinning like a loon without a hair out of place. “Need some help with this one Jimmy? Good show.” He hit Simon across the face hard, dazing him, and used the opportunity to handcuff him and secure him to the wall like Magnussen, but there was plenty of space between the two of them. “Rest of the cunts have already run back to their vans, they’re driving off now. Tough luck Charles.”

 

"Could, um, could somebody please untie me..." John muttered as Sebastian laughed on the other end of the phone and replied with a "Alright, coming in now, just need to park my stealth bomber. You sure you definitely don't need it? Because the yank's taking off straight away and flying home as soon as I get out of the damn thing." John let Moriarty untie him, looking rather unhappy with the set-up and shaking his head. "Where's... is Sherlock safe? Is he here?”

 

“Just… let him go. I’ve got another call coming through, hold on… No John, of course he isn’t here. I actually give a shit about him even if he wants to ride your cock now…” Jim hung up on Sebastian and stumbled out of the basement and onto the ground floor. Jesus his head hurt. He won though. He fucking won. “Hello?” Jim answered Magnussen’s phone where there was some quiet. His father and John could deal with their prisoners.

 

"James Moriarty _what the hell are you doing?"_ Mycroft spat down the phone at him, "Why have you stolen a stealth bomber from the middle of a war zone in the Middle East in order to fight _your_ private battles. I've got defense going mental, they think it's terrorist activity, you're about to have the entire MI5 branch jumping on you unless you give me a good reason to hold them off.”

 

Jim gave a helpless little giggle as the severe stress wore off and now he was facing Mycroft and he had a concussion. Not exactly a winning combination but he had worked with less. “Okay… that is _entirely_ unfair. I did not steal or order Se-… anyone… to steal a stealth bomber. Well we all know what happens when the American military feels _threatened._ Uhhhh… oh fuck I dunno. Do I really have to think of something? Can’t we both just say I came up with a brilliant and airtight reason why it’s in your best interest to leave me alone?” Jim gave a great sigh and tried to get his brain to work. “Well… I’ve got Magnussen here at gunpoint. He’s bffles with all of you there in government, your corrupt little circle jerk of a government. Charles knows all of your dirty little secrets and I have Charles. So no covert _or_ overt ops unless you want me to sell secrets to Russia or whatever. Your little plane is on it’s way back and the pilot is even alive, although I notice you didn’t mention him. Telling about where your priorities are. Ow.” Jim settled across his father’s couch and winced as the movement pulled his ribs. Bastard hit hard.

 

"You cannot, oh gods, right, I'm sending someone down there right now. Don't move. Don't do anything with Magnussen." Mycroft practically squawked in alarm, "Who else do you have there with you, is it heavily defended? You are going to cause massive international problems that you have no idea of - what?" There was muttered speaking with someone off the end of the phone line as Sebastian Moran ran into the house brandishing a pistol and a knife with a rifle slung over one shoulder, rushing over as he saw Jim, "Alright, Moriarty... what do you want. I'm ready to talk." Mycroft finished more formally.

 

“No no no no no, you are not getting this. You put your government before me over and over again and I got burned. Literally. I have over a hundred burn scars on my body because I wasn’t fucking _useful_ enough to you to be worth rescuing. So fuck you, I am not letting you make decisions Mycroft Holmes. Because historically speaking you are shit with keeping your promises.” Sebastian came in and Jim snorted, “hello Rambo. Think I bled on the couch. Can’t tell cause my hairs red already…” Jim focused on Mycroft again. “What do I want? I already have what I want. Just leave me alone to enjoy my victory, limp dick.”

 

"You cannot be allowed to hold Magnussen, just tell me what you want to -" was as far as Mycroft got before Sebastian strode over, and clicked off the phone.

 

He reached down to pick Jim up bridal style and look at him fondly, "Holmes can wait, boss. Both Holmes can wait. Let's get you to the medical tent and sorted and then we'll need your brain working because there are now I'm guessing several people and a government who want us out the picture, and we'll need to do something about that. You really have Mags trapped? That's fucking amazing.”

 

Jim frowned at the phone, “I was using that. You are rude. I was trying to stop your diplomatic incident from blowing up in our faces… they are going to send MI5. I only have three gunmen and one of them was smacked around…” He made an unhappy sound as Sebastian picked him up. “S’what you did last time I had a concussion. It’s embarrassing. I’m a god damn adult.” He huffed an irritated breath but decided he’d said his piece and wouldn’t argue anymore. “Yeah he’s downstairs. Let’s see how long I can keep him trapped for before Mycroft tries to break him out.”

 

"That might be a terminally bad idea given that everyone knows you're here..." Sebastian frowned, not sure where to take Jim now he'd picked him up and heading for the cellar, putting the smaller young man down before they reached the door. "We need to get somewhere safe if you want Magnussen for anything longer than the next few hours. We can't stay here, we need to get in the jeep and scoot to somewhere, anywhere.”

 

“Well this sucks… how am I supposed to get through all of my revenge if I’m being chased all over the country…” Jim was sat down on a step going down to the basement and he gave a sigh. “Yeah okay, I get it. I’ve got fuck all, he sold my apartment. You’ve got properties don’t you? Or your parents do?” Jim just wanted John to look him over so they could get a move on, he stripped off his shirt so John could check his ribs. “Da!” Jim called, “Get our guests ready for transport. Use the tranquilizers.” He heard a pleased noise from his father and Jim sighed, feeling stressed out.

 

"Um... yeah, my mums got plenty of places." Sebastian nodded "There's one, close enough I suppose, we could get there in the jeep, you - wow..." his voice died out as Jim tugged his shirt off, revealing all the tattoos and scars, biting his inner cheek to stop himself reacting too much and looking ahead. His jaw clenching as Moriarty Sr. dragged the unconscious Simon out of the basement. He stared at the man, feeling a strange pang, despite everything, after all it had been a pretty intense time of his life. And then a wave of nausea rushed over him and he forced a smile. "Well. I'll go hijack the jeep. Unless, unless your da has the keys on him.”

 

“Course I have the keys…” Moriarty scoffed as he carried Simon in a fireman’s carry up the stairs. “You might have been brought in recently but we have been planning this for months. Make yourself useful Moran, and carry Charles out to the jeep. John will make sure your little boyfriend gets out there soon as he’s ready.”

 

Jim huffed a bit of a sigh as Sebastian obviously tried to hide his reaction. He’d gotten a good enough poker face that Jim knew he was hiding but didn’t know exactly what he was trying to hide. It could be admiration or disgust, all Jim knew was that he was hiding. He bundled up his shirt and pressed it to the back of his head where he was bleeding. “Watson, Sherlock will actually be meeting us at the new location. Are you coming along? I can probably promise not to yell at you anymore. Mostly got it out of my system, plus I’ll be busy. We could use a doctor.” Jim wasn’t sure Molly would be up for using her medical skills to keep his torture victims alive as long as possible.

 

"Ah, planning this for months. That must be why you had a B2 stealth bomber waiting in the wings just ready to roll out if I didn't show up, hmm?" Sebastian grabbed at Magnussen's body, slinging it over his shoulder and heading out to the direction of the jeep, happy to let Jim give the orders now as he seemed to know what was going on. "Want me to drive while your da gives Mags a few slaps, or am I in the back." He was very relieved he hadn't been asked to carry Simon, even if it felt very strange being back at school hauling Mags around like a sack of potatoes.

 

Jim frowned as John ignored him. Whatever. He stood and followed up after their little train of people, leaving John behind. “We can’t all fit.” Jim decided as they loaded up their hostages into the back of the jeep and made sure they were secured. Foot and wrist chains for transportation, bags over their heads so if they woke up early they wouldn’t know where they were. “Moran and James will go in the jeep for security just in case you fucked up the ketamine doses. I’ll — uh. Drive myself I guess. Unless Dear John lowers himself to fraternizing with criminal scum.” Jim stood out there in his tattoos, some covered by the tattoo concealer, with his shirt still pressed up against his head. “I have my bag. Da, go back through Mag’s office and your office, get anything that looks valuable. Everything from your chest of goodies in your classroom and any weapons you can find. Seb go help him move shit.”

 

Sebastian didn't look at all pleased about Jim being in a different car, but didn't say anything, just nodded and followed Moriarty to his office to help. He didn't say anything either, bar a few sideways glances at the man, until they were loaded up and walking back before he asked, relatively politely, "So what's the deal now then - you obeying the boss as well? I've still got very little bloody idea quite what's going down - just wondered if I had the authority to slap you one if you start putting any more scars on him.”

 

Moriarty shrugged, “Why do you think it was me? Cyric spent plenty of time with him too. He left scars of his own.” He actually wondered for a moment if anyone had told Sebastian about Cyric. Jim had killed him three or four months after Sebastian left for the army, it was very possible that Sebastian didn’t even know he was dead, much less that Jim had killed him. Moriarty tugged a few things out of his desk and dropped them in the large chest in his classroom before taking the whole thing and moving it outside so he could load it in the bed of the jeep. “As for hierarchy I don’t think he’s worked that out yet, as of now no one out ranks anyone else, we all just have our jobs. Jim’s not really the _boss_ it’s just that his job is managing. I still decide what orders I take from him. No all of us are sheep.”

 

"He's the boss as far as I'm concerned." Sebastian shrugged, briefly baring his teeth at the thought of Cyric, "Which means if he orders me to kill you I won't bloody hesitate. Speaking of the six-foot wonder where is Cyric? Please tell me he was one of those mooks running around outside, because that means he's still alive and I can kill him.”

 

Moriarty shook his head and smirked. That answered that question. “He died. Jim did it, maybe four months after you threw a bitch fit and ran away. Ripped his throat out with his teeth. I’ll admit that was a pretty impressive stunt.” Moriarty heaved the heavy box into the bed of the jeep and then shut the back door. They already looted the weapons and Mags’ office, that should be everything. “Stupid fuck had it coming.”

 

Sebastian gave a warm sort of smirk at the thought of Jim killing Cyric, particularly in such a way, which more than made up for the fact he couldn't. On the other hand the thought of what Cyric might have done to him, the four months when Jim might had suffered, made him angry, doubly determined to make sure Jim never had to go through that again. He heaved the rest of the belongings into the jeep, ignoring the man's insults and clambering inside, pushing Magnussen into a propped up position and dropping a bag over his head. "One down then, and looks like two more to go.”

 

Moriarty snorted and shook his head, “There’s more than two. Jim’s spent the last few years tracking down the people in that video from five years ago. I was able to help him identify a few of them but… your sergeant is the last one.” Moriarty had approved of Jim’s project and helped him hide it from Magnussen. That was how their relationship of working against CAM had started. He watched as Jim got in Watson’s car and started the Jeep. Watson would follow them since no one knew where the fuck they were going. “Well… let’s get this little road trip started.”

 

"Right then, keys?" Sebastian started up the jeep, feeling a bit of a thrill at driving it, and then looking back at Moriarty. "Alright, I can shoot and drive if I need to, but there's no guarantee we'll go in the right direction so try and keep those two in the back subdued." Altering the mirrors so that he could see into the back of the jeep, after all this would be a great time for Moriarty to knock him on the back of the head, he started off, looking wistfully at the school and rather wishing he'd been able to level it with a stealth bomber while he'd had the chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Past abuse


	6. Yes I Boyfriend with Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the long wait and I promise to catch up on all the wonderful comments you guys leave. They really do make a difference. I've been really depressed the last few weeks and this fic is hard to work on, but I'm definitely going to work on doing better. Instead of regular updates it's more likely to be bursts of updates when I have the ability to work on it.

John and Jim had a very tense drive up to the house, until Jim just decided he needed a nap. When they arrived everyone got settled, the things were brought in, and Magnussen and Simon were secured in the wine cellar. Moriarty took first watch and Jim was spread out across a real fainting chair. One of those chaise lounges. He was still sore but John had given him a pain and now he was just trying to stay awake a while longer with little success. The whole house was apparently a project that Serephine never got around to fixing up so it wasn’t in great repair and the water and electricity weren’t on yet. They would call someone in the morning. For now they made liberal use of candles and Jim was curled up with a blanket.

 

Sebastian had helped Moriarty set up the prisoners in the cellar, given Simon a few slaps to wake him up and then looked through Moriarty's chest with a few excited noises until the man had snapped at him to get out and let him keep watch. Carrying an ornate candlestick, he headed back up, smiling as he saw Jim curled up on the chaise lounge. "Yeah well, clearly she hasn't done much with the place. She must have bought it before she moved to the U.S. You doing alright? John says I should keep an eye on you what with the concussion." He hesitated, putting the candlestick down and sitting down in front of the chaise, tugging out his gun and sticking it on his lap, leaning back against the chaise, "You said I could have another question, if it's not too pertinent: what the fuck is the plan?”

 

Jim shrugged and kept his eyes closed against the flame, it aggravated his headache. Also he had a little bit of a thing against candles and lighters after his dad burned the shit out of the bottoms of his feet. Perfectly normal reaction to have. It wasn’t the sight of the flames so much as feeling the heat that made him antsy. These candles were safe and not very close to him. “Dunno. Revenge. See if I can get enough info out of him so I can successfully save enough of his empire to keep it afloat. If not, maybe I’ll build my own. Maybe I’ll live on an island for a while. Maybe I’ll build an empire on an island. It’s the first time I’ve been able to make choices for myself. I can do whatever the fuck I want.” Jim’s voice was filled with a little bit of awe; it was seriously unbelievable that he had made it this far.

 

Sebastian gave a chuckle, "There's no way you could run Mags's place, but with him gone there's going to be a huge number of people shitting themselves a lot in the next few years. I think you could take advantage of that. But then what do I know, I just steal stealth bombers." He leant his head back to glance up at Jim, hand on his gun, "Where you even just a little bit impressed?”

 

“You are a doubter. To be perfectly honest I don’t give a fuck if his whole empire crumbles without him. Good riddance. I like the idea of building something that’s entirely my own.” He was quiet for a moment before he sighed, “I don’t know what I want. ‘Jim Moriarty’ has no prospects.” Jim scooted over so that Sebastian would have more space on the lounge. “You are a bloody moron but we would have been fucked if you hadn’t shown up. You came across like you were trying too hard. A for effort but a C for style.” Jim smiled a little and smirked. He was surprised at the easy camaraderie. They were both just running high from the day, it didn’t mean anything.

 

"Next time I'll just go for a nippy little missile launcher then, shall I?" Sebastian grinned, "I had to fly all the way from the Middle East to somewhere near Scotland, anything smaller wouldn't have made it - we still had to do a refueling stop in France. That was fun, by the way, with fucking terrified engineers running everywhere and that bastard swearing at me in American." He sighed, the future was suddenly incredibly complicated and filled with people who wanted to kill him - although as far as Sebastian Moran was concerned that just made it a battle-ground and he knew how to act in battle-grounds. "Yeah, build something up. If you take over this pile of shit you'll find unexpected blades all over it. Better to let it implode completely then loot the corpse.”

 

Jim snorted, “Swearing at you in American? What does _that_ mean, he called you an ass instead of an arse?” Jim’s American accent was pretty good, he’s just spent nine months in Korea pretending he was American. “You jackass. Did he call you an ass pirate? Fuckboy. Bitch ass cunt.” Jim snorted, he still thought he sounded pretty ridiculous as an American but his accent was good. “You are totally a fuckboy.” Jim groaned a little and rubbed at his temple with the heel of his hand. “Seriously I just did something dope as fuck today, leave me alone. I don’t want to think about it right now.” His accent got _stuck,_ to be fair he’d been using it constantly for almost a year, it get a little wonky in his head. He’d actually had to concentrate when he’d been talking to Seb in the bar to use the right language and accent.

 

Sebastian's face twisted into something resembling shocked amusement and he gave a snort as Jim's accent continued, "You make a good Yank, surprisingly good. And yes, he was rather disturbingly obsessed with insults than involve my arse. Fucking repressed to hell and back. Very uncreative." He closed his eyes, tilting his head backwards against the chaise again, and listening out for any strange noises and creaks. "Do I still get my question, or are you busy not being concussed." He murmured gently.

 

Jim was pleased to have Sebastian’s attention and to be able to amuse him. “Not a good yank, you hated my look. Whatever. Wasn’t for you.” Jim’s words switched a little bit eventually he fell back into his true accent when he focused. Sebastian’s head tilted back and Jim had an absurd idea to reach out and touch his hair. “I thought ‘what the fuck is the plan’ was your big brilliant question.”

 

"Well, yeah but that was a professional question, and to be fair you didn't exactly have an answer." Sebastian gave a shrug, keeping his eyes closed, "'S fine. Doesn't matter. You better get some rest if you're going to be doing Mags over tomorrow. And whatever you want to do with that other bastard." He didn't want to start thinking about it, mostly because he had a feeling that Jim's father would be doing the work while Sebastian stood on the roof with a pair of binoculars and a long-range snipers rifle taking out any MI5 agents that turned up. "I'm just pleased I could bring all my gear along. Looks like it's going to come in handy.”

 

“Fuck you, I’m twenty-one, I’m not expected to have my shit together.” Jim watched Sebastian lazily, his eyes half lidded to block the light of the candles.  Sebastian had his eyes closed and the small flames cast strange shadows on his face. “Nah, I’m not supposed to sleep too much anyway. Believe me, I’ll have plenty of energy for that.” Jim didn’t make any mention of the sergeant. He wanted it to be a surprise! “I’m glad you could come along. Looks like you are going to be handy.” Jim hummed curiously. “Oh so it’s a _personal_ question. Aren’t you getting all friendly after business hours. You haven’t even been drinking.”

 

"I tend not to drink." Sebastian admitted, "Makes me feel sick and shits up my aim." His eyes opened, looking at Jim upside-down curiously, "Is it so surprising I have a personal question? We were pretty damn close, I mean. Back in the day. And then I fucked off and you dropped off the radar without a word of warning." His mouth twitched up into a half-smile, "Last time I spoke to you, before you reappeared, I think I even promised to stay fucking celibate for you. Is it so surprising that I might have a personal question waiting?”

 

Jim supposed that made sense, Sebastian had been in an environment where he was on call all the time, it wasn’t surprising he hadn’t been drinking much over the last few years. He glanced away as Sebastian opened his eyes, not wanting to be caught staring. Jim couldn’t properly look at him as he brought up the past. It was kind of embarrassing now, not that they had been together but that Sebastian had obviously moved on and put that part of his life away. He didn’t think about it, probably at all, and Jim had thought about it a lot. It made him feel like a teenage girl. “There were plenty of people I was close with back in the day that I’m not with anymore. Watson, Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes.” Jim dragged a disbelieving eye over to Sebastian, “What’s your point? Are you asking if I’ve been celibate? Because that is a little more than personal.” Sebastian had promised that, but Jim knew even in the moment that he wouldn’t be able to do it, hadn’t even wanted him to.

 

"What, fuck no!" Sebastian laughed and closed his eyes again, mostly because he didn't want to watch Jim's awkward and slightly disgusted look, "Yeah just you didn't spend a whole two months continuously having sex with Watson, Lestrade and Mycroft Holmes. 'S nothing. I said. I know you've been with other people, I mean it was your job, of course it was. I'd like to hope you also got your rocks off a little out of hours but I doubt that bastard in the cellar would have allowed it." This was definitely easier with his eyes closed, but he still wasn't sure he could bring himself to ask anything closer and more intense, or certainly not to admit that whatever else he'd done, he'd not allowed anyone else back in his arse. "You had your job, I had my moments. Whatever. Long time ago.”

 

“I sincerely hope you’re talking specifically about the break I had after Carl between spring and summer holidays because we most definitely were having sex for more than two months and if that’s all you remember then I wasn’t doing my job right.” Jim had come to the school in October… then it ended in August when Mags took him. That was a lot longer than two months. Not that Jim was counting exactly. He glanced at Sebastian unhappily. “You don’t even know what work I was doing. Don’t act like you know me.” That was maybe a little harsher than Sebastian deserved but Jim didn’t want him knowing about it. Not that Jim was so ashamed it was just kind of… weird having his ex boyfriend talk about him seducing and killing a long line of people. He didn’t think Seb knew about the assassinations though. Jim smirked and rolled away onto his back so he could stare at the ceiling. “Oh yeah. My boyfriend is coming up tomorrow. Going to cook me up some untested government hallucinogens.” Sherlock and him were _possibly_ done, but Jim was quite sure John had dumped him and Jim could get him back if he wanted to with a little bit of the old persuasion. “You still haven’t asked your question.”

 

"Oh yeah it was, what, three whole terms we were together." The memories should have been fond but they were tinged with a lot of violence and a lot of personal weakness and Sebastian was suddenly regretting this whole discussion. "I knew you..." he answered quietly. "And no worries. You've already answered it." Jim had a boyfriend, a boyfriend who would be here tomorrow. He tried to feel glad that despite everything Magnussen had done Jim had still been able to find himself a person to care for outside of work but he couldn't quite succeed. He was going to be stuck in a half-ruined castle of his mothers, while two men he hated were tortured by someone else and the one man he cared for was loved by someone else. Wonderful. Lifting his head up he gave it an angry little shake. It had been excessively stupid to assume that Jim wouldn't have found someone else, or would want him for something more than a hired gun. "Get some rest." he finished, "I'll watch the door.”

 

Jim went a little quiet when Sebastian said he already answered the question. The most obvious one was _are you single_ but Jim had given a lot of information. It could have been anything. This business relationship wasn’t going to work if he jumped to conclusions every time they talked about anything even remotely personal. “Okay. Tomorrow we’ll get the heating and lighting turned on and we can get some food.” Jim stomach rumbled hungrily but he was already half asleep. There was a lot to do tomorrow.

 

"Yeah." Sebastian rumbled back in reply, keeping his hand on his gun. He napped a few times during the night, but it was just cat-naps, listening to the rise and fall of Jim's breathing. At one point he made himself stand up, walk around the room, and then looked down at Jim sleeping, all pale limbs and red-died hair and very quietly whispered a "fuck" to himself. He'd let the feelings he'd had fade away but had never really dealt with them and now that Jim was here they were all rushing back. Carefully, he walked in a circle around the chaise, looking down at Jim and forcing himself to remember that Jim had changed, Jim had grown, Jim had moved on from the stupid weak spoilt little rich kid that Seb had been and Jim had found himself a new boyfriend.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning Jim was feeling a lot better although his head still ached something fierce. Molly and Sherlock were driving up together, Jim wasn’t sure how _that_ was going to go. Sherlock called though to say he had all of the ingredients he needed and was bringing some chemistry tools. Jim thought the project was going to be good for him. When the car pulled up Jim greeted them in the foyer, kissing Sherlock politely on the mouth and giving him a quick pat to the arse just to watch John’s face turn red. Sherlock looked a little worse for wear — he’d had a rough two weeks, Jim was sure, but he looked determined too. Give him a puzzle and watch him dance. Jim liked to watch him like this, when Sherlock was focused and not pointlessly self destructing. “What is that?” Jim asked blankly as he saw Molly with her surrogate child in a pet carrier. “Watson, Moran, you both remember Dr. Hooper, I’m sure.”

 

Sebastian wasn't feeling hugely awake when he stumbled into the wash-room and splashed his face with cold water, heading downstairs and frowning as he saw the less-annoying Holmes at the door with a woman he faintly recognized from somewhere. His eyebrows rose as Jim greeted Holmes with a kiss and a grope, scowling as he put the pieces together, "Oh fucking brilliant..." The only real advantage of the whole thing was that John Watson was looking like a lost little puppy who'd not been taken home from the pet shop. Coming over he clapped a hand on John's shoulder, nodding at Molly as the memory came back. "Dr. Hooper. Yes. I remember. That's a cat Jim, I suspect it belongs to her. Any reason the least twatish of the Holmes is gatecrashing this little party? If I remember rightly his elder brother has threatened to send a large proportion of the British army after us, and I'd rather not let in any security risks."

 

Molly gave Sebastian a small polite frown back and then sighed at the cracking tension jumping between the four men, "Well... if you'll excuse me, Jim - you promised I'd have a room of my own? With a lock? I need to feed Toby, he's been stuck in the car all the way here. It's very out of the way, isn't it?”

 

Jim ignored the tension in the room and pressed a polite kiss to the corner of Molly’s mouth. Just so she wouldn’t feel left out. “I told you yesterday Moran, Sherlock is going to be cooking up some hallucinogens for us. Very useful stuff. He almost got his chemistry degree.” Jim took Molly’s bag and gave the carrier a suspicious glance. “Alright Molly, I’ll show you to your room. Sherlock, I’m afraid you’re going to have to bunk with someone. Have a think, yeah?” Jim smirked and left to show Molly to her room. 

 

Sebastian looked at John as Jim left, eyebrows raised, "Did you know about this?"

 

John sighed and shook his head, looking at both of them, "This is nothing to do with me, Jim and Sherlock are very close and they spend a lot of time together."

 

With that, he walked off, with Sherlock staring after him dumbly, and then flinching away with a scowl as Sebastian gave a snort. "So. You’re the boss's boyfriend. Well. Nice arse I suppose. If skinny twats are what he's into now."

 

Sherlock sneered at him, holding his bag a little uncertainly, "Please Moran. A boy you fucked five years ago and then left to be tortured and used and beaten is hardly going to suddenly want to jump into bed with you. You have absolutely no idea what me and Moriarty have been through, both alone and together, while you've been busy shooting Watson. Which way is Jim's bedroom?”

 

Jim walked Molly to the upstairs, “Well I did it.” He raised his eyebrows. “I’m not dead and I’m not being tortured. I think I’m going to call that a win. How was the drive up, impromptu therapy time?” Jim knew Sherlock had seen Molly before, a few times. He opened the door to her room and set her bag down on the bed. It was simple, but furnished. It turned out the heating was actually done through radiators so they had the gas turned on by the company and the house was slowly warming up.

 

"It was ... very quiet at the beginning. I did have a bit of a talk with him though." Molly gave a grateful smile at the sight of the room - a bed, a desk and a rather creaky wardrobe would certainly do for now. "Thank you, I am pleased you're getting away with it so far. I've heard nothing from Mycroft about it, so I suspect he's trying to contain things at a much higher level. It's cold isn't it?" She put her hand on the radiator, nodding as it warmed and reassuring herself that it wouldn't be too bad. "Sherlock's back off the class A at least, and... well... he's very confused. He does care for you, but he's worried he's addicted to the kind of, um, kinky sex you provide. He doesn't want you to feel he's becoming too attached to you, as he knows you want to stay very casual with things. I might have heard rather more about dildo's than I wanted to.”

 

Jim couldn’t help laughing a little at that but he sobered up pretty quickly. “Yeah he — mentioned something like that when we talked on the phone the day after our fight. I dunno. It’s confusing and complicated. It feels strange being around Sebastian again.” It would be good to establish himself with Sherlock and put some distance with Sebastian so Jim wouldn’t keep seeing things that weren’t there. “I appreciate that you came up here. Everyone came out of the fight pretty good yesterday, I hit my head and took a few punches and so did John but otherwise no worse for ware. I’m more worried about everyone getting along. It’s quite the conflict of personalities.” Toby was let out of his carrier and Jim eyed him cautiously.

 

"It is a bit of a rag-tag mix of people." Molly grinned, "Although I'm probably feeling as safe as a girl surrounded by psychopaths and mercenaries can feel given you all seem to be desperately trying to get into bed with each other. Don't expect me to cook for you though, that can be Watson's job." Toby tiptoed out of his carrier and headed straight for Jim, mewling and rubbing against him, wondering why the human smelt different. "See, he remembers you! Alright, let me know when you need me, I'm going to unpack." There was the sound of a crash from downstairs and she bit her lip, "You should probably go and rescue Sherlock.”

 

“You are right. A four way would fix everything. You’re a genius.” Jim picked up the cat and held him under his arms, letting his bottom legs dangle helplessly as Jim stated him in the eyes. He wasn’t quite comfortable enough with animals to start talking to it, but he did feel like they communicated well enough by staring. There was a crash from the lower floor and Jim winced. “Jesus… how about now? Can’t you make them sit in corners and talk about their feelings…” He put the cat down and sort of jogged downstairs, leaving Molly and Toby to unpack.

 

"I can't make Sebastian Moran sit in a corner if he doesn't want to..." Molly waited until Jim had jogged out before murmuring, "Although you probably could." Sighing, she looked down at the slightly offended-looking Toby, "Alright, come on. We're staying here and we have to make the best of it.

 

It hadn't been a slap he'd swung, it had meant to be a jokey sort of warning, a snapped out hand that would have stopped just before Sherlock's face, but the boy had jumped, alarmed, and dropped his bag. Something inside it had broken and now there was an angry shouting Sherlock in his face, who just got angrier and shoutier as Sebastian grabbed the front of his jacket and pushed him back, "Alright, what the fuck is wrong with you, I didn't even touch you!" He yelled back, as Sherlock's voice got louder and higher, "Whatever you broke we can buy a new one online, alright? I'll fucking pay, just calm the hell down.”

 

Jim heard the shouting just down the hall actually in his bedroom and it was kind of a weird instance where in an entirely different situation this could have been a fantasy but currently Jim was just angry and frustrated. “What the fuck do you think you are doing? Let him go.” Jim stepped next to Sherlock and pressed a hand against his chest to calm him down. “Sherlock tell me what happened.”

 

"I didn't fucking touch him!" Sebastian snapped, moving away as soon as he was ordered, and baring his teeth briefly as Sherlock was asked to explain, crossing his hands defensively across his chest and muttering "The one time I could've used a fucking idiot filming it..."

 

Sherlock scowled, straightening his jacket and shooting Jim a grateful glance, "Sebastian swung at me. Apparently, to miss. I dropped my bag. Some of my equipment is broken. If I'm staying in your room, I want him out of it, I can't work if I'm spending the whole time worried somebody's going to come in and hit me.”

 

“You have a separate room for work, that’s why you had to bunk with someone. I trust you and everything but I think you understand why I don’t want these chemicals around the area where we sleep.” Jim sighed and pinched his nose. “Sherlock, the room you’ll be working in is the study. It’s down the stairs on the left. No one is going to bother you, why don’t you take stock and let me know what we need.” Jim glanced at Sebastian, feeling disappointed but he didn’t say anything while Sherlock was still in there. It wasn’t fair to lecture or anything in front of someone else.

 

Sebastian glared at the floor as Sherlock grabbed his stuff and stalked out. The words 'sorry boss' hesitated on his tongue but they never quite got through in favour of a snapped, "Really, _him?_ He's a skinny little tosser who's too lippy for his own fucking good. And you know who his brother is. You actually... boyfriend? With him?”

 

“Oh I’m sorry. Are we talking about this? Because last I checked it wasn’t at all relevant to our discussion. He’s working for me, I understand that you didn’t hit him. I know you are used to palling around with your army buddies but Sherlock is _a skinny little tosser_ and he just went through detox. He’s have a rough time, he’s jumpy, and I need him at his best. You aren’t helping him do that by hazing him.” Jim wasn’t sure how Sebastian had any right to be insulted by his choice in partners. “Yes I _boyfriend_ with him. And yeah he’s lippy and skinny and he’s Mycroft’s brother, probably the only think keeping him from blowing this whole place up, but you know he was actually _there._ That fucking helps.”

 

Sebastian stared at him for a short while, is jaw clenching. There were a large number of words inside him that wanted to be screamed out but eventually he just settled for snapping. "You told me to stay away." Then strode out of the door, uncertain of where to head next. He ended up heading outside, slamming his palm against the bricks of the house and resting his head against it. He'd had the odd fuck, often hard, sometimes rather dubiously consensual, but he'd never formed anything like the sort of emotional attachment to call a boyfriend. Jim clearly had. "And that's his fucking problem." He muttered at his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: None


	7. If He Gets to be the Angel of Death can I be the Black Widow?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, sorry about the long wait but I will be updating once a week at least from now on. Now that my job situation has settled down some I have more time for editing.

Instead of thinking about Sebastian and Sherlock Jim threw himself into getting Sebastian’s surprise ready. He found an older TV, nothing large and nothing super modern but it was good enough to have HDMI capabilities so he hooked it up to his laptop. He’d been planning this for years. Mags was off to the side, his father had spent the night making the cellar into a proper torture chamber. Jim was sitting in a chair with his laptop in his lap. Sebastian was told to come down, Jim hadn’t told him it was the surprise though. When he showed up Jim smiled from his seat. “Surprise! I thought you needed to work out a little tension.” Jim pressed play and the video started playing on the telly, footage from Simon’s camera, a scene between him and Seb, a few minutes before he started laying into him with the belt. Simon would later strip him, and then pin him down. He stood and set the laptop down before he came to stand in front of Sebastian and he pressed a hand against the man’s chest. “I saved him for _you_ Sebby. I want you to have fun. It’s easy to shoot someone from several hundred yards away, but I wonder if you can really do it all personal. It’s good for you. I told you I’d give you closure.” Sebastian’s eighteen-year-old voice echoed out of the telly as he counted pushups and finally collapsed, unable to do anymore.

 

Sebastian stared at the television, unable to tear his eyes away from it, feeling his mind almost blank out as hot and cold shudders rushed over him. He closed his eyes and then opened them again, and suddenly there was nothing but cruelty as he turned to Jim, pressing a hand against his chest and pressing him up against the wall. "You want me to shoot him? Fine, I'll fucking shoot him. But not to that. Play the other bit, you fucked up little bastard. Play your bit, you think I want to see this? You want me to have 'fun' remembering the shittiest night of my fucking life, well play me the bit where you get a goddam toilet brush up your arse and I'll take this fuckers eyes out.”

 

“Ugh —“ Jim made a disgruntled noise as Sebastian pressed him against the wall. He supposed he might hurt him, but Jim wasn’t worried. Sebastian needed to do this. “No, that’s not how it works. You haven’t faced it, you just locked it away. And look, you can’t even watch it. You face what happened, you face him, but now you fix it.”

 

"Give me one reason I shouldn't fucking hurt you instead..." Sebastian growled, turning to watch the TV and then giving a sigh. He looked so young, so helpless and confused, and he couldn't help a little flinch as the belt started to slap down. "Fucking look at me. Bloody little idiot." Stepping away from Jim he idly patted the side of his leg and then pulled out his knife, looking at Simon and shaking his head. "And look at you! Should've fucking known better you dirty cunt. All right, lets do it this way - by the time Cyric's finished dealing with me - you'll be dead, how does that sound? Until then... you'll be alive.”

 

Jim just stared back at him defiantly, daring him to do it. Then he stepped away and refocused himself on Simon, just like Jim wanted him too. This was good. Sebastian was doing well. Jim had done this for each and every one of his attackers. There were eight of them originally, not including the sergeant. Cyric went first, and then over the years Jim had hunted down six more. One died during a job for Mags gone wrong, he was the only one that had gotten away easy. Every time he killed one he set a TV up, just like this. Made them watch what they did to him, made himself watch, feel that vulnerability and fear and weakness and then took back his power from them one piece at a time. Sebastian would feel weak and shaky for a while but it was better to face it and take back your power from your abuser.

 

Sebastian spent most of the time concentrating on Simon, only occasionally glancing at the image of himself on the screen, young and hurting and helpless. It felt good though, to be back and doing something about it. He winced as Cyric arrived with the cane and shook his head, addressing Simon for the first time since he'd started, "There he is. Not long now. Although it felt pretty damn long at the time." He managed a grin, "Expect it'll feel pretty damn long for you now as well." He wiped the knife on his trousers and stepped back, glancing at Jim, "You've got a fucked up idea of presents, you know that. Are you really fucking Holmes?”

 

Sebastian was very textbook, and Jim didn’t mind that. He didn’t have that Moriarty _flare_ but it was a solid first attempt and he really didn’t do badly. He’d mutilated Simon’s face first and Jim thought that might have been an excuse to dehumanize him and make it easier psychologically but Jim didn’t think Sebastian was self aware enough to realize that. “Yes, I’ve really been fucking Sherlock. I don’t see how this is at all relevant to your current activities.”

 

"Well of course it's got nothing to do with my _current_ activities." Sebastian grumbled getting back to work. "'S a pity though." He sighed as Simon began screaming, glancing up in irritation as Cyric whipped his arse on the screen, "Ugh hurry up mate, he's not going to shut up now." The sound didn't make him feel that much better and he raised his voice, "What's it like though, bet it's dull. Does he just bend over, all blushing and virginal? Or does he never. stop. talking. Alright, there we go." The cane snapped across the sobbing Sebastian's arse on the screen. "Forgot I'd wailed so damn much. There you go, shows over." The knife rammed itself into Simon's throat and Sebastian stepped back.

 

Jim frowned, pouting as Simon bled out all over the floor. “That was so… anticlimactic. You didn’t have any final words for him, no grand declarations… so practical, it’s a shame.” Jim went over and gave Simon a firm kick to the head as he started choking on his own blood. “You get a six-point-five out of ten stars. My sex life is not as interesting as this - ugh.” Well. Jim supposed when you spent years and years imagining something it was never going to live up to your expectations. “For your information he is very eager and he participates plenty.” Jim glanced up at the screen as his younger self tackled Cyric and watched as he got pinned to the floor and he rutted against Jim’s naked arse, threatening to rape him in front on Sebastian. Jim paused it, looking on dispassionately. “How do you feel then?”

 

"If you'd wanted a show I'd have shoved a gun up his arse and shot him out the end of it." Sebastian grumbled, looking down at Simon and then up at Jim, coming over and gently chucking him under the chin with a bloody hand, "Oi - was this for me or for you? Because for me, turning a stupid kid’s humiliation into a dispassionate death was pretty damn refreshing. This is a good way to deal with problems. Carve them up, watch them scream, stab them in the throat. Next time, when it's someone random, then I'll put on the fireworks for you." He glanced at the screen and his jaw clenched, "I was pleased to hear you killed him." He hesitated, narrowing his eyes at the mention of Jim's sex life. "What, Sherlock puts on a show does he. Huh. Fucker. Well he's smart, isn't he, that's true. Smarter than me." He looked down at Simon's death rattle and shrugged, "What should I have said to him? Getting blow-jobs from kids is wrong? He'll not have the chance again. I just wanted him to die and suffer. And he has. Job done.”

 

Jim hummed, considering the mental image he had of Simon being shot up the arse. “Yes, that was more what I had in mind. No matter. I find you can always tell a lot about a person by watching them torture a childhood enemy.” Jim scowled a little as Sebastian got blood under his chin. “You need a shower… It was for both of us. I wanted to kill him of course, the toilet brush was his idea and he egged Cyric on and he filmed the whole thing and wanked over it. It was more important that you get to do it though. I wasn’t sure you were going to be able to, to be honest.” Jim reached down and scratched at the scars Cyric carved in his hip under his shirt. “Yeah well… that was pretty epic. Fucker died with his cock up a kid’s arse so he was probably happy.” Jim turned and started heading upstairs, “Sherlock doesn’t put on a _show_ he’s enthusiastic. And yeah he’s smarter than just about anyone here except me.”

 

"You tied him down to a chair, it restricted my options a lot." Sebastian whined, purposefully childish and grinning as he wiped his face on his sleeve. "You didn't think I'd be able to kill someone? You have a very strange idea of what happens in the army." He followed Jim up the stairs half muttering under his breath, "Well I could be enthusiastic.”

 

“I didn’t know that you’d be able to kill someone at close courters with a knife, and someone who you loved as a child.” There wasn’t any doubt in Jim’s mind that he _had_ loved him in a fucked up way. “So shower, you nasty.” Jim was clean except the blood on his face from Seb’s hand so he stopped to wash in the kitchen sink. Molly was there. “Hey… we weren’t too loud, were we?”

 

Molly gave them both a disapproving look. "Loud enough." Was all she said, preparing herself a quick little snack.

 

Sebastian gave a grin, wiping the blood off his hands in the sink and winking at Molly, who pulled a face of disgust, "C'mon Dr. Hooper, last time we met I was arse up over your inspection table, give me a break here." Grumbling at the blood on his shirt he tugged it over his head, dumping it in a bucket and looking around for a washing machine, "Fuck - sand and water it is then. This place is primitive. 'S like the desert but fucking cold. Moriarty - please don't worry yourself, I'm perfectly capable of killing people at close quarters with a fucking knife. As for lovers - I'm the angel of death me. Most of the men I've fucked ended up dead within the week." Whistling, he walked out of the kitchen to get another shirt.

 

Molly looked a little stunned and then turned to Jim with a raised eyebrow. "Well. He's something. Or at least, he desperately wants you to think he is.”

 

Jim sat at the kitchen table with her and watched Sebastian parade around like a peacock. He turned to look at Molly’s face instead of Sebastian’s naked torso when he took his shirt off. Jesus that was so unnecessary. When Sebastian left Jim rolled his eyes, “I keep forgetting he doesn’t know the work I’ve been doing for Mags. If he gets to be the angel of death can I be the black widow?” Jim’s voice was childish and whiney, trying to make her laugh and get her to loosen up. “He did alright. Didn’t take to it as well as I thought he would. Did better than I did my first time but I was seventeen and didn’t have military training.”

 

"I really, really don't want to know." Molly said hurriedly, "Hearing it was enough, I might have seen the worst of Mycroft's fallout but that still doesn't mean I enjoy the things you get up to." She gave Jim a small smile, "He'll catch on quickly enough. Between you him and Sherlock the ego's in this place will be unbearable." She looked after Sebastian's retreating body. "He does seem a little happier I suppose.”

 

“Don’t you worry,” Jim stood up to brush his hand over her head like the way he petted Toby. “We’ll toughen you up. My therapy works too you know.” He grinned and shook his head, “Don’t forget Mags and my father. The only one who’s not an egomaniac is John. And you. Don’t worry, everything’s going to work out just fine.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jim spent a lot of the afternoon with Magnussen, trying to get him to talk to him. Tomorrow they would start torturing him but Jim didn’t want to rush this at all. John cooked later and they all enjoyed a meal where there was certainly a lot of snipping and poorly concealed dislike but otherwise everyone got on. It was later that Sherlock was spread out on the bed and Jim crawled out on top of him to straddle his hips. “Hey… how’s your work coming? I missed you. You know I would have been there the last couple weeks if I had been able to. Even though you were a cunt.”

 

Sherlock turned his head away at first, until he felt Jim rubbing against him and then he twisted, looking up at Jim hungrily and a little sheepishly, "It's doing well. Had a good day today apart from the distraction of your pet dog causing all those screams." His face twisted and he reached up for a kiss, "No - it was probably better you weren't, I was stupid enough to fuck myself up, you shouldn't have to deal with it." He gave a little smile apologetically, "Although... at least I know that you _know_ how I feel. More than anyone.”

 

“Hey…” Jim shushed Sherlock and pressed his lips against his, sucking his lower lip into his mouth but he didn’t bite. “You saw me through worse.” That was all Jim was going to say about that because talking about his overdose was not on. “How come you chose my room, hmm? You could have been sharing a bed with Watson.” He rocked down on Sherlock’s hips, rubbing his arse over him invitingly and sensually. Jim wanted to take a different approach this time. While he knew that Sherlock was into all that kinky shit they got up to, Jim suspected that Sherlock had other needs too that Jim had been neglecting.

 

Sherlock gave a little whimper, pushing his legs up a little to allow Jim more access to his arse, fully expecting a spanking, "I - you really think Watson would let me into his bed?" He said softly and a little sadly. "Or rather he would, but he'd sleep on the sofa. He doesn't want me, or if he does he doesn't know what to do with me. Dr. Hooper wants her own room, your father would refuse point blank - do you think I should have shared a room with Moran - ahh..." He looked up at Jim with wide eyes at the gentle touch, his bottom wriggling in Jim's hands, "Are you angry at me?”

 

“I think he still wants you, but you’re right. He certainly doesn’t know how to handle someone like you.” Jim watched Sherlock blankly, feelings a little nostalgic. “I don’t know what to do with you. And yes I’m angry at you, but I also know how to be an adult and put it aside. I still want you… I hope you know that Moran being here doesn’t change that.”

 

"He wants you." Sherlock said, looking away a little with a sigh, "And Moran might be having sex, in fact I'm pretty sure he was boasting about it earlier, but he's topping. So I don't know what he wants you for but I don't think it's what you would want." He looked back at Jim then, giving a smile, "I want you too. You know that, don't you? I'm not about to jump in bed with Watson just because he's here. Those two silly soldiers can go ahead and fuck each other for all I care.”

 

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you…” Jim’s voice was more teasing than sensual and he laid down across Sherlock’s chest, leaving his arse and crotch alone for now. “Who would top between the two of them? You’d want to watch.” Jim bent down to kiss across Sherlock’s face and neck, but they were just presses of his lips against skin, closed mouth. Jim was going to ignore Sherlock’s deduction on Sebastian’s sex life for now. “You sure that you want me and not just someone that can make you feel good?” Jim gently tugged at Sherlock’s ear with his teeth and pressed a kiss to his temple.

 

"I've no wish to watch your pet mercenary fucking Watson, let alone him trying to be submissive." Sherlock made another face, kissing Jim back as he went across his skin and pausing at the question. Eventually he said in a contemplative voice, "I - don't know. I don't even know what you want me to say. Is it better for me to be enamored with you or to just enjoy the feelings we can make together? I think if Moran turned up and promised to make me feel as good as a person could feel I'd still refuse him. I don't like him very much. Whereas you... I do like. I like being with you, particularly when we do this..." He hesitated and then reached down to grasp Jim's wrist gently, "If - if you do want to turn my arse red, y-you should do it sooner, rather than later. Or I won't be in the mood at all.”

 

“Well it was worth a try,” Jim breathed and paused so that he could talk to Sherlock and look him in the face. “It’s not an easy question I understand. And there’s no right or wrong way to answer it. I like being with you in sexual and nonsexual situations. We are… friends, I think. I don’t think I’m able to feel anything more. For anyone.” Jim cupped the back of Sherlock’s head, tightening his fingers through his curls and kissed him slowly, tasting his mouth. “Sorry to disappoint you. Punishment in sex is part of sex, I don’t bring personal grievances into the bedroom, that’s just abuse.” His other hand slid down to grab for Sherlock’s arse where his legs were bent up around Jim’s hips. “I want to fuck you like this. Not on your stomach. Are you in the mood for that?”

 

Sherlock felt his breath catch and nodded, "I'd want to stay your friend." He murmured, and then added a little ruefully, "So I should probably not have another shouty breakdown." He twitched his arse upwards, quickly nodding again just in case Jim didn't see the first time. "Yes, yes I think I - I would definitely be in the mood for that.”

 

“I want that too,” Jim sat up so he could strip off his shirt. He’d showered and the makeup was gone, it was just his skin and his tattoos and bruises and scars. “If you decide that you want more then friendship with Watson then tell me. You should have said who it was you were dating. It wasn’t right to keep that from me.” Jim rocked his hips and rubbed his arse against Sherlock’s cock, hoping to get him hard. “Good.” Jim hunched over so that he could pin both of Sherlock’s hands down, twining their fingers together but trapping his hands against the sheets and he kissed him, inviting his tongue into his mouth.

 

"I - yes - I should have told you." Sherlock said a little shamefaced. "I was just - " he hesitated and then lied, "I didn't know how you'd react and so I kept putting it off." He opened his mouth and slid his tongue inside Jim’s closing his eyes to keep out the real reason - which was that it had been nice to have a shameful little secret of his own; that nobody knew or judged him for. Jim had been his secret from Mycroft, and John his secret from Jim, even if John was now a closed door. "How do... how do you feel about Moran?" He ventured as the kiss broke.

 

Jim was good with people and he saw that Sherlock was lying but the true answer wasn’t apparent and Jim decided it wasn’t important enough to push. He really didn’t care why Sherlock hadn’t told him, just that he was sorry that he hadn’t. The kiss broke and Jim had to give a little shrug when Sherlock asked more questions about Sebastian. “He’s doing everything I hoped he’d be able to. Look, Sherlock he moved on. That’s good.” Jim reached under Sherlock’s trousers and started to fondle him. “Do you want to keep talking about the past or…?”

 

Sherlock shook his head quickly, his hips canting up at the touch, "N-no, just wondered, just worried I might be thrown out of the bed for him, that's all." He gave a cheeky grin, "Which would be a mistake for you, obviously, Moran wouldn't be nearly as enjoyable as I am, it's just science. Let's move on, agreed.”

 

“Mmmm,” Jim hummed as he smiled against Sherlock’s mouth. “As soon as I can figure out how to orchestrate a threesome without offending any of our egos it’s happening. No? Not as enjoyable as you?” Jim scooted up Sherlock’s chest so his crotch was closer to his face. “Does that mean you want me in your mouth?”

 

Sherlock slid out a tongue to lick along Jim's cock, "Mmm... means I can take you however you want me to." He murmured seductively, "That brute is unpracticed and uncompliant. Good for a rough one-off I suppose, if you like that sort of thing. Don't even think about organizing a threesome with him in it - I'd refuse." It was half joking and Sherlock wondered for a fleeting moment whether he would, if Jim wanted it and persuaded him to do it.

 

Jim unbuttoned his trousers and tugged them off before settling again just as Sherlock’s tongue peeked out to lick his cock. He shivered and reached behind Sherlock’s head again to support his neck at the awkward angle. “Condom first, you know better.” Jim reached for his trousers and fished out a condom from the pocket, the box was in his duffle bag but he’d packed a couple in his pocket just in case it went well with Sherlock. “Get me hard first until I’m ready for the condom.” He smirked and shook his head, “No you wouldn’t. Try and accidentally walk in on him in the shower sometime. He’s hung. Possibly bigger since I last saw. That happens. You’d love it.”

 

Sherlock shivered at the words, suddenly very much imagining Sebastian Moran naked. "He's far too boring and simple. I suppose if you were there as well, it would still feel like using a noisy dildo though. He flickered his tongue out again with a smirk before waiting for the condom, reaching forward with one hand to grasp the base as Jim supported his head, licking gently at the head, "Would you like to watch that, hmm? Me being impaled on Sebastian's cock? I suppose you do keep him around for the big guns.”

 

“That is a terrible line. Use it on him when you sneak up on him in the shower. He’ll eat it up. Ahh…” Jim tilted his head back slightly as Sherlock licked tentatively at his cock. “You are a fucking tease… and yes I would like to watch that. Maybe while you suck me off.” Jim got the condom on once he’d hardened up enough. “I want you to ride me tonight… I don’t know that we’ve done it like that, have we?” It would be a bit awkward because Sherlock was taller than him, but he was thin as a rake, Jim wasn’t worried about him being too heavy.

 

"I don't think so..." Sherlock murmured around Jim's cock, still just teasing and licking the end, and raising an eyebrow at the image presented, or Sebastian being deep in his arse while he did this, "Mmmm... we'll see. I'd rather kiss you while he did it. I think it would drive him mad." And finally he wrapped his lips around Jim's cock and bobbed his head all the way down.

 

“Yes! Oh fuckkkk… come on.” Jim moaned loudly, forgetting that there were other people in the house. He was used to being with Sherlock at his flat and not having to worry about noise. “That’s good. Yeah…” Jim held the back of Sherlock’s neck and gave him some gentle directions with that hand.

 

Sherlock was well aware that there were other people in the house - and it suddenly occurred to him that most of them were his rivals - maybe time to let them all know how much power and control he had over James Moriarty. His tongue and throat worked with every trick he knew, while his hand stroked gently along Jim's inner thighs and another along the back of his arse, moaning gently around the cock in his mouth, his eyes staring straight up at Jim’s.

 

Jim was pretty vocal when he got going, not as vocal as Sherlock but he certainly wasn’t shy. “Shit! Shit Sherlock. I missed this… missed you.” Jim worked his hips carefully, not able to just sit still even though there was a risk of choking Sherlock. “Ahhh! H-hot. Jesus.” Even his hands felt good and Jim alternated between tilting his head back with his mouth closed and his jaw slack and staring down into Sherlock’s eyes and watching him work. “I love to watch you…”

 

Sherlock felt his cheeks flush at the praise, his eyes staring open as he worked, relaxing his throat, knowing he wouldn't choke on Jim and suddenly feeling very safe and secure as he bobbed his head up and down, Jim above him, his hands starting to explore all over the parts of Jim he could reach simply because he enjoyed having the man so close. Jim's cries were certainly loud enough to be heard - in his bedroom John had a pillow over his head while Sebastian miserably stroked his cock hissing "fuck, fuck, fuck," at the ceiling and fantasising about storming in, impaling Sherlock on the end of his knife and sweeping Jim up right there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Torture, discussions of the sexual assault of a minor.


	8. I Wasn't Myself

The next day everyone was around the table at dinner, chatting quietly about inconsequential things. Seb had spotted a scout — probably Mycroft’s and he’d taken some warning shots and the man left. That was the topic of discussion, along with his father’s failure to get any information out of Magnussen yet. “I’m telling you he’s probably got a fucking satellite pointed straight at this place.”

 

“We can always find somewhere and go off the radar, live off the land. Harder to keep prisoners but we’ve only got one now.” Moriarty mentioned.

 

"We'd have one less if your dad could actually do his damn job." Sebastian grumbled under his breath, not at all happy after listening to the show last night.

 

Sherlock was ignoring everyone, writing down some numbers on a pad in front of him, trying to work out how to create the HOUND material and occasionally humming under his breath. "How exactly do you plan to 'live off the land' at this time of year in the middle of the UK with three civilians, a prisoner, and a pet cat? Off the radar sounds good, but it's bloody difficult in this country.”

 

Jim heard that comment and gave Sebastian a warning look. His father continued, “The cat is emergency food.” Moriarty teased. “We wouldn’t have to be here. I realize it’s not our best option — this is our best option for now. I’m just voicing an alternative.” Moriarty had not been at _all_ amused to hear his son and the Holmes kid going at it like rabbits so he spent most of that time downstairs with Magnussen. Moriarty stuck a hand on Sherlock’s paper and pulled it towards him, trying to make sense of it. James was smart, maybe as smart as Jim, but chemistry was not his thing and he couldn’t get a full idea of what Sherlock was working on from his notes alone. “I hope this pet project is worth it.”

 

Sherlock scowled and snatched the paper back, "That's _mine_ thank you, I can't work if you keep taking it away. I'm trying to recreate a very technical and precise solvent compound based on three people's conversation about the weather. It's not easy."

 

Sebastian squinted at the paper over Moriarty's shoulder, rolling his eyes as Sherlock tugged it away like a kid trying to hide his homework. "Dr. Hooper isn't going to be very good at putting up a squat in the undergrowth, and the day we all have to share a tent together is the day at least one of us ends up dead."

 

He pretended to ignore John's murmured, "Probably you.”

 

“I get it Moran, it’s a shit idea. We’ve already covered that, would you like to actually offer a valuable alternative?” Moriarty drawled out, glancing around at all of them before he got bored and started poking at wounds. “Soooo…” he drew the word out and glanced at Molly. “It looks like we are the only two people here who aren’t faggots. If you wanted to share a room with me… I promise the emergency food thing was a joke.” James has zero interest in Molly sexually, he was trying to work out what her relationship was with his son and he didn’t know her as a person. Jim grit his teeth but knew better than to come to her aid. His father would label her as weak, and besides that, Molly was tough and he wasn’t grilling her hard. In fact, for his father that was pretty polite.

 

Molly looked up at Moriarty in surprise, blinking slightly before giving a small smile, "Mr. Moriarty it's highly likely that I'm going to spend rather a long time here - trapped in a house with yourself, a psychopathic prisoner, my cat, and four gay men. And yet still, I think you're the last one I'd choose if I needed any companionship."

 

Sebastian grinned and then gave a shrug, "Valuable alternative - yes. Mycroft Holmes knows we're here, but I suspect he's the only one. So we phone him up and tell him that if he even thinks about sending anyone in to root us out, we shoot his brother in the dick.”

 

Jim smirked as Molly put his father down. James grinned too, pleased at least that she wasn’t so weak that she got flustered and overwhelmed. Jim dropped the grin though as Sebastian probably tried to make a joke. It wasn’t really funny when everyone was carrying a gun except Sherlock. “Moran, shut your damn mouth. Mycroft already knows Sherlock is here.” Jim decided to haze his father back and he bent forward to kiss Sherlock lazily, making sure there was a flash of tongue. Being gay around him was generally one of the only sure fire ways to make him uncomfortable and back down. Course he hadn’t really been thinking about Sebastian or John and how it would make them feel.

 

Moriarty rolled his eyes and glanced at Sebastian. “Looks like you’ve been replaced. Tough shit kid. Don’t really blame him though, he’s pretty enough he looks like girl. And that shit he’s working on is smart stuff.”

 

"What do you mean replaced, I thought that was the house slut?" Moran sneered at Sherlock, who scowled and pulled away from Jim, flipping him off. "Thought it was my turn tomorrow night or am I cutting in ahead of John." He grabbed at Sherlock's finger, lazily bending it back with a grin, "Careful, you know what that sign means don't you? You might give people ideas, that and the noise you made last night.”

 

Jim stopped, his mouth dropping open a little in shock to hear Sebastian talk like that. Fucking military. “What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?” Jim stood as Sebastian started bending Sherlock’s fingers back. “Stop. Moran that’s _enough.”_

 

Sebastian scowled letting Sherlock's hand go, as Sherlock snatched it away. "Ah c'mon, I barely touched him."

 

Sherlock scowled, baring teeth briefly, "Don't even think about it Moran, I wouldn't let you anywhere near me no matter how nicely you asked -" his voice died out into a protesting squeak as Sebastian's face was suddenly all up in his, the back of one finger sliding down his face.

 

"Well who says I'll even bother asking, hmm? Or bother listening to the damn answer." John placed a warning hand on his shoulder and Sebastian shrugged it off, irritated that he wasn't allowed to scare Sherlock when he wanted to.

 

“Kitchen. Now.” _That_ shit came from the military but it wouldn’t be allowed here. Jim grabbed Sebastian’s arm and dragged him back through the swinging door to the kitchen. “When you are here you will not threaten anyone in this house. If you _ever_ touch someone against their will while you are working for me you’ll end up in the fucking cellar, am I making that perfectly clear? I can’t believe you’re so hard up for it that you have to resort to that.” Jim voice was quiet but scathing, trying to make sure the lesson stuck.

 

Sebastian flushed at the order, but obeyed it, turning on Jim as soon as he got into the kitchen, "Where the fuck do you get off treating me like that in front of everyone." He hissed, "Your dad already thinks I'm your bitch, and now you've confirmed it for him and Sherlock and John as well. I'm not to threaten anyone in this house? A few days ago you were complaining I hadn't threatened a guy well enough. It doesn't just turn off and fucking on again. This has _nothing_ to do with how much I want sex or have you been a hooker so long you can't tell the difference any more between that and fucking assault.”

 

Jim flushed and slapped Sebastian across the face. “Can _you_ tell the difference because there were a few times we were together that I fucking couldn’t. I’m your boss. You threaten my enemies, you don’t suggest raping my chemist. Check your macho bullshit at the door.”

 

Sebastian stared at him in shock for a few seconds, his cheek smarting but he'd be damned if he was going to react to that at all. He was seething under the surface but he managed to answer coldly. "I don't think I remember assaulting you. Maybe you should have filmed it so you could run it back to me. Or is it just my humiliating moments I get to relive? Was there any reason you pulled me in particular out of the army - because you can hire pretty damn obedient mercenaries nowadays that won't lay a finger on your chemist - or was it just that you knew I'd come cheap?" He grit his teeth and managed a salute. "Right. No threatening the staff. Got it. Anything else, Sir?”

 

Jim snarled but didn’t hit him again, “Don’t be nasty. I thought you wanted this, that you wanted to work with me. You are cheap. You’ll fold for anyone who tugs your leash and you’ll do anything for a scrap of approval. You don’t have to like that I’m with Sherlock, but you need to fucking respect me. If you’re not mature enough to treat me and what I survived with some dignity, then you need to pack your bags.”

 

"Anything for a scrap of approval?" Sebastian gave a snarl, fed up and tired already, storming forward he grabbed Jim by the front of the shirt and pushed him up against the wall, modifying his hold at the last moment so as not to actually bounce him against it, "Yeah, you'd love that wouldn't you? Sebastian Moran the way you left him, ready to wriggle his arse at a command and happy not to expect anything in return. Well that's fucking changed, I didn't just come here because I wanted to fuck you, alright? It was a damn job. But you should know I got up to some pretty fucking shady stuff out there in the army and you should maybe tell your pet _chemist_ to keep a look out at night, alright?”

 

Jim gasped as he hit the wall, more from the shock than the pain because it seemed like Sebastian pulled his force at the last second. His toes didn’t touch the ground though and Jim wiggled like a worm on a hook, trying to free himself. “Let me go. You just fucking try it and see how fast you end up in that cellar. It wouldn’t be any difficulty to find another Cyric, see how much you like it.” Jim was not at all impressed and to be honest he was almost scared, he’d never had Sebastian turn on him like this. Jim spit, right in his face and snarled at him.

 

"You have changed." Sebastian spat back at him, "You've changed into fucking Mags. Get another Cyric, is that what you want? Gonna turn me into your whore, is that the general idea?” One hand tightened around Jim's throat, stopping short of squeezing. "If you think I'm going through all that sort of shit again, even for you, you've got another bloody think coming. You get another Cyric, go on, set him on me, and I'll decorate your damn bedroom with his entrails, see if you can fuck your perfect little Holmes bitch in that mess.”

 

“I- am not -Mags.” Jim grit out from between his clenched teeth, Seb’s hand was now around his neck instead of bunched up in his shirt and even if he wasn’t squeezing his throat Jim couldn’t breathe easily. “You are not a _child,_ you’re a self proclaimed rapist threatening me and my staff. You can be damn sure I will fucking _hurt you_ if you even try it.” Jim wasn’t going to live in an environment like that, he just wasn’t. He’d obviously made a huge mistake in bringing Sebastian back here.

 

Sebastian stared at him and then dropped him, abruptly turning away as Jim crumpled to the floor and giving a sneer, "Well maybe you should've hired one of those nice mercenaries, you know, the ones that never do anything bad to anyone and spend their lives picking fucking flowers and dancing under the moon. You couldn't hurt me if you tried, you lost that power a few years after you told me not to come back to you so that you could suffer all on your own. Mags got his claws into you and he's turned you into a little clone of him, to slot into his fucking empire. Don't take the high ground with me - you fucking murder people for a living. I'll be in my room if you want me to pack - and if you want to tell Holmes which part of _my_ mother's house to stay away from." With that he stormed out, slamming the door.

 

Jim wheezed on the floor for a few moments until Sebastian stormed off. Jim lost his shit a little bit, and he spent a good minute destroying everything he could get his hands on in the kitchen. When the last glass shattered against the floor he fixed his hair and clothing back into place and then stormed back into the dining room so he could grab up the front of Sherlock’s shirt. “Listen to me. I want the drugs done now. Finish up your notes and get me some I can use.”

 

Sherlock had flinched a few seconds before as Sebastian stormed out, and jumped again as Jim suddenly grabbed him. Snarling, a little fed up, he grabbed at Jim's hands in his shirt, glaring up at him and then his face clearing as he put together in his head what Jim might want it for. "That is... highly unethical. But a very good idea. Come to my study now, it'll take a few moments, it needs to be prepared a bit before use.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was hours later that Jim finally had what he wanted and he waited with his father outside of Sebastian’s door. Jim knocked before turning the knob and swinging the door open. Sebastian had been locked in there, he was lucky Jim hadn’t just tied him down in the cellar but he didn’t want Magnussen to see this. “Has your little tantrum worn off then?” His father skulked in the back. “I have a few questions to ask you.”

 

Sebastian had kicked the walls a few times and then sat down on the bed, taking out his guns and cleaning them, slowly and methodically, and thinking through what had just happened. He'd gone jealous, and Jim had gone strangely protective, and Sherlock Holmes was clearly off bounds. He heard the door knock midway through and ignored it, finishing cleaning his guns before glancing out of the window to work out whether there was an alternative way to the ground. He'd put the guns away and was staring at the wall, waiting, when Jim opened the door. His eyes flickered towards Jim, and Moriarty behind him, and he breathed out. Fuck, this was it then. "Sure boss." He said mildly. "What is it then, you ask the questions, he makes sure I provide the answers? Don't get too much blood on the damn carpet, mum'll be upset.”

 

“Something like that.” Jim took the mask from his father, it had a little rubber pouch and it was commonly used to administer anesthesia. “Just hold still. It’s probably not going to hurt you.” Not if Sherlock had done his work right, and Jim had triple checked it. There had been some holes in the original formula, it hadn’t been completed but Sherlock was quite sure that this dose would work and would work properly. Jim moved to Sebastian who was still sitting on the bed, he pressed a knee on the mattress between his spread legs before holding the mask over Sebastian’s nose and mouth. “Breathe deep, okay?”

 

"What the fuck, are you... fuck." Sebastian looked down at him, too shocked to respond other than to obey as Jim pressed the mask over his mouth. "Are you euthanizing me? Fucking god..." and then after a pause, "Wish I'd never bought you that damn stealth bomber. You never deserved it." Closing his eyes to block out Moriarty he breathed in deep. It was more likely that this was some sort of truth revealing drug than an active attempt at killing him. That barely bothered him, he didn't have anything worth hiding, and if he was out of it there was the off chance his subconscious might reveal something useful about Magnussen or Mycroft Holmes.

 

Jim was somehow both shocked and unsurprised that Sebastian just let him do what he wanted, didn’t even try and fight him. It almost wasn’t fun. Jim felt like he was leading a trusting pet to the back room of the vet’s office. “Don’t be silly tiger, I wouldn’t do you like this. Just relax. Don’t fight it. The more you do the more it’s going to hurt.” This was a fitting punishment in Jim’s mind. After this they could be square. He squeezed the little bag and watched the white mist form in the mask before it disappeared into Sebastian’s lungs. “Good. Deep breaths. Give it a minute to kick in.” Jim moved away and handed the mask over to his father who left and locked the door behind him like he’d been instructed.

 

Sebastian look a few more deep breaths, feeling strangely moved and vulnerable. Jim was close, very close, and here he was just letting a dangerous psychopath pump goodness-knew-what into his lungs. He felt a wave of unease pass over him, no longer sure of Jim's motives, and the feeling didn't change as Moriarty took the mask and left. "Where's he going - to get the thumbscrews?" He asked suspiciously, his breath panting a little at the unexpected sudden oxygen. "What've you just given me, something your chemist cooked up? I - fuck." A sudden dizzy wave passed over him and he scrubbed his face with his hand, feeling his heart-rate speed up.

 

“He’s not coming back in here unless you harm me. If you do he has order to subdue you. Those are his instructions.” Jim decided to be honest and hoped that giving Sebastian something to hold on to would help him. Jim watched expressionlessly as Sebastian’s breathing picked up, his heart beat pounding under the skin in his neck, the artery jumping. “It’s not lethal, or even toxic. You’ll come out of it fine. If you answer all of my questions then I think we can put this little tiff behind us, what do you think?” He wanted to engage Sebastian and get him to say what was on his mind. It would give him a better idea of how to use it on Magnussen when it was his turn.

 

"Little tiff?" Sebastian gave a grin and shook his head, "W-what you mean me acting like a fucking idiot, ah shit..." His head was pounding now and he found himself reaching for the bedside table for his knife. "S' fine, I'm not... just need to hold it. Don't get Moriarty in here, that fucker'll go through me." He scrubbed at his face again, standing, knife held protectively ready to go. "I could last - maybe a week? Few days? Not if he kept at it though. He's good with pain your da, fucking impressive, always was. Even if he is a bell-end." Sebastian was pacing now, like a caged tiger, across the back of the bed, listening out for jumps and creaks.

 

They didn’t have a real interrogation set up in the bedroom so Jim just had Sebastian and him on speakerphone, Jim had given his father a safe word so that he would know when to come in. He still had to dictate a lot of what was happening. “What do you think you are going to do with that knife?” Jim watched him pace around the room anxiously. Maybe it would have been better to restrain him first. “I think we both overreacted. It’s not pleasant finding out that someone’s not who you thought they were, is it?” He settled on the bed, non-threateningly. “Yeah, he’s really good. And he knows you personally, pretty well in fact. You wouldn’t last a full week, psychological torture is how he really cracks you opens and your mind isn’t strong in that area.” He set the phone down on the end table so that he could keep his hands free. “Why don’t you start by telling me how you figured out what I did for Magnussen. I never mentioned killing people. Did someone tell you or did you work that out on your own?”

 

"Nothing, I'm not going to do _anything_ with the fucking knife, I mean it depends what _you_ are going to do." Sebastian snapped back, giving a slightly scornful laugh as Jim continued, "Yeah alright, not a week. But you act like I'm still some scared, pissed little boy. Yeah, I lost my temper at you but that's different. A whole lot of fucking different. Everything with you is different." He glared at the phone, eyeing it suspiciously, and feeling himself start to sweat. "What's that? Who are you calling, what the fuck is this? I've heard enough clues and worked out enough myself to know what you do. Your Mags's whore, you fuck 'em then you kill them. That bloke from the Baskerville place was all over the News at One it wasn't exactly subtle." He suddenly crouched in the corner, knife out, blinking and rubbing at his eyes. "Fuck was that, did you hear that? Jesus... but Jim isn't a whore. Never was. Whatever you fucking say. Mags used him and he broke and twisted him and you know it fucking _kills_ me that I'll never get him back even if he did want me.”

 

“If you hurt me he’s going to come in here, if you try and damage the phone he’s going to come in here.” It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Sebastian to _relax_ but he doubted very much that it was possible at the moment. “You aren’t weak, but you’re impulsive. That’s all I meant.” It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why he was different but then Sebastian started going on about the work he did for Mags. That was good. He was being receptive to questioning. It was pretty shocking how fast the drug was working. Sherlock was on speaker too, writing down notes and projections. “I’m not a whore.” He defended calmly but stopped short when Sebastian crouched in the corner with his knife. “Jim? Who do you think I am?” He tilted his head curiously, wondering if the visual hallucinations were already kicking in. This wasn’t easy to hear and he didn’t like that his father and Sherlock were listening but it was the only way to give him any kind of security.

 

"You fucker..." Sebastian shook his head. He'd taking in rather a lot of the drug incredibly fast and his heart was pounding. Knife out, crouched down, part of him felt like he was back in India, back in the jungle, and with that came a certain sort of stability - a rock in the ocean of fear. He was terrified, but Sebastian Moran was used to being terrified, and he could steer the terror like a boat. He snarled again as his captor spoke - he had no idea now who else was here in the jungle that was the room. But there was someone else, and they were fucking with him and, worse, fucking with Jim. "You can shut up for a fucking start. You don't know anything about Jim. What he did, what he's done, what they did to him, even I don't fucking know. Mycroft kept pretty damn silent about that. Could've strangled the little bastard - I almost got up to that damn school as well, hitch-hiked practically to the front door when they found me - ha - that earned me credit back at fucking Eton though, striding in all bruised up, all kinds of rumours when I finally fucked off and ran away." His breath gasped and choked and he suddenly looked up to where Jim was, the light seeming to sway dangerously, his brows furrowing, "No - what - you're fucking dead." He spat at the figure on the bed, "You died, he killed you. Jim did. Tore your throat out, Moriarty said. How the fuck are you... you vicious bastard." He threw himself forward, his limbs all uncoordinated, landing in a tangled heap of limbs in front of the bed and croaking, "What have you done to me... you know the last fucks that tried to drug their way into my arse ended up scattered around Delhi…"

 

It became increasingly obvious that Sebastian was not at all aware of who Jim was. That was both good and bad, it was good because that would help with questioning Magnussen later but it was bad because Jim was still pretty sure deep down that Sebastian wouldn’t hurt him — as long as he knew who it was. His brows furrowed, “Wait, why were you bruised up?” Had Mycroft done something? Jim couldn’t imagine Sebastian going quietly but that still seemed pretty extreme. He started to become a little alarmed as Sebastian projected Cyric’s face onto his. He hadn’t known that Sebastian knew about Cyric. “I’m Jim. Sebastian. Look at me.” Jim bent down to scoop up the knife, the idiot was just lucky he hadn’t fallen on it. “No one is going to rape you. I just want to ask you a few questions. How are you feeling right now?” That would be good for Sherlock but Jim wanted to push the complexity of the questions. He wanted to test it against something that Sebastian would be invested in hiding. “What is it that you are hiding from Jim?” He guessed there had to be something, Jim was hiding a ton of stuff from him.

 

”Mycroft sent a fucking hit squad after me." Sebastian said smugly, giving a grin that was more a stretched teeth-baring than anything else. "Whole truck full of bastards, that was when I realised, needed to be fucking stronger. Came back from that and realised if I wasn't allowed to get Jim out, I'd get myself out. Get ready for him." He glared at Jim, frowning and feeling his certainty waver before it was almost submerged in another wave of fear, "Don't play fucking games you bastard." He growled, "Last time I was nothing more than a kid - and maybe I needed you whaling my arse to help me grow up, but it's fucking over now and I just carved Simon up." He gave a shudder, scooting back to shiver in the corner, "Why do you care what I'm hiding from Jim? It's been five fucking years - and he doesn't bloody want me. Who hires a sniper and then wants some horny bastard mooning over them? Jesus... here was me thinking I was less pathetic... c'mon Cyric give us a smoke you've usually got one. Heh." He sighed and shuddered, "Then you can knock me about enough to please Mags and I'll give you the info you need yeah? I'm not fucking Jim over, though, not for you, if he just wants my dirty secrets that's what I'll give him.”

 

“Well… Mycroft is a shit, I’m never going to argue with you about that. It’s good that he kept you away from the school though. There were a lot of dangerous people and they wouldn’t have had any trouble hurting you. You wouldn’t have been able to help Jim. You did the right thing.” He decided to play along, and see where it got him when he wasn’t actively trying to disprove Sebastian’s hallucinations. “I asked you what you’re hiding from him. Don’t make me hurt you.” Now that he knew there was something there he certainly wasn’t going to just let it go. Jim watched him shiver and cower in the corner. “I don’t smoke anymore. I don’t like the smell.” Every time he smelled cigarettes he could smell burning flesh like an after taste. “Oh? Do tell. I’d be interested in your secrets and then maybe I won’t need to bend you over the bed, yeah? Don’t you want to cooperate?” He wanted to test and see how far he could push the hallucination.

 

Sebastian snarled at him, rising up and practically flinging himself at the bed while his legs went in different directions. "Go ahead, do your fucking worst, shit..." he collapsed again, scrambling himself into a ball, sweating and gasping, "You aren't bending me anywhere, you fucker, that's Jim's if he ever wants to claim it again... s'for him." He sniffled, scooting back away from Cyric, "Yeah I've fucked around but never... never let any fucker near my arse, even the ones that tried. Heh. And I'll take you fucking down if you try." At the other end of the line Sherlock frowned, shook his head, then turned to Moriarty and murmured, "Not via a mask. Listen to his breathing. He's had too much too quickly. He... should be alright. But I don't think it's meant to be given by mask…"

 

Jim stood quickly and moved away as Sebastian almost toppled over him. That was interesting, looked like as long as they kept him under the influence Magnussen wouldn’t be able to run off anywhere. Jim flushed very red at Sebastian’s little declaration, all the more so because he remembered who was listening in. He needed to save some face so he took a riskier tactic, Jim wanted to see how much influence he could wield, how impressionable a subject was in this state. “Jim didn’t wait for you. I took him over and over again. He sent you away and spent years fucking other people, for _money._ Jim didn’t try and call you. And instead he was shacking up with someone else, don’t you feel lied to? Why are you sticking your neck out for a broken whore? Just give me the information I want.” Jim didn’t hear Sherlock’s comments, they agreed to mute their side of the conversation so Sebastian wouldn’t be startled by any voices or outside stimuli.

 

"He's not a broken whore, you're a goddam fucked up piece of _shit..."_ Sebastian made another attempt at flinging himself at the bed, giving a ragged little groan and then rolling over onto his back, panting and laughing, "Ha... oh fuck... almost got me. Moriarty teach you that trick? Go on, get the cane, fuck knows I might enjoy it. But if you go anywhere near my arse I'll kill you, Mags or no. What information do you want... what was it... my secrets? What secrets? I abandoned the only fucker I've ever felt anything other than mild irritation for and joined the army. Some people tried to kill me and I gutted them. We captured some of them and I hit them. I fucked some guys. I got a tattoo. I hunted tigers on my days off. There's no grand fucking secret. Jim _was_ my big secret.”

 

Jim didn’t have anything else to ask him, Sebastian had always been an open book. Their projections for the dosage said it was going to be short and sweet, they thought the subject needed constant exposure but there wasn’t any way to do that in the house, not without exposing everyone. They were improvising. Sebastian looked like he was already over the worst of it, he was more relaxed than he had been even just a couple minutes ago, the apathy was returning and his fear took a back seat. “I think we are done here. You did good, tiger.” Jim patted his shoulder and stood up, grabbing the phone. Moriarty was waiting at the door, he unlocked it but instead of letting Jim out he shoved him back into the room. “What the fuck?” He shoved Jim against a wall and hit him hard over where he remembered Simon leaving bruises. Jim got the wind knocked out of him and as soon as he took a gasping breath, Moriarty had the mask pressed into his face. Jim tried to stop but he needed air and he got a dose of the drug. “What — you fucker. Why?”

 

Moriarty shrugged, grinning. “You sounded like you were having fun and all that talk got me feeling nostalgic.” He shoved Jim back hand and he stumbled and fell to the floor, his limbs uncoordinated. “I’m interested to see what the effects are when you know what the drug is, and how that helps you resist it. Plus, we still haven’t seen the aggression the files talked about. Maybe that only comes after prolonged exposure.” Jim felt his heart accelerating and he broke out into a sweat as he tried to keep calm and focus, James was completely off his mind. Moriarty pulled a cigarette and a lighter out of his pocket and lit one up as he walked over to Jim. “You know there’s still room for a few more burns. How would you feel about getting some more tattoos Jimmy?”

 

“Fuck — no. Stop.” Jim scrambled back but he hit a wall and it was suddenly impossible to regulate his breathing. “You won’t do it. You know I’ll douse you in lighter fluid and set you on fire.” He watched with barely concealed panic as the end of the cigarette glowed bright as his father took a drag off of it. “Shit.”

 

Sebastian had his eyes closed now, still swamped with fear, and still pretty much convinced that he was being tortured or threatened by Cyric, just trying to deal with everything without compromising Jim or, quite honestly, without pissing himself in fear. His eyes snapped open at the sudden commotion, as the mask dropped to the floor, some smoke still hazing out of it and he frowned. The room above him seemed to be rushing towards him; the fear was dying down but he was still light-headed and uncertain. "Jim?" He croaked, trying to push himself up and falling again, catching his forearms against the floor, staring down at it and trying not to be sick. "Fuck, where's, where's Cyric… What did he... are you alright? ...Jim, he said..." he hesitated. There was someone in front of Jim and they were threatening him in some way and with a growl he launched himself forward, managing to grab Moriarty somewhere around the waist and tumble him backwards.

 

Moriarty went tumbling down as Sebastian tackled him around the waist. “Jesus — calm the fuck down I didn’t even hurt him.” Moriarty wasn’t actually all that interested in really hurting Jim, but he did want to see how far a proper interrogator could get with the drug and this idiot was ruining it. Sebastian’s reflexes were slow and uncoordinated, it wasn’t difficult for Moriarty to hit him once in the face, avoiding his nose and teeth, before twisting his arm behind his back and pinning him to the ground. He rescued the cigarette from where it was singeing the carpet.

 

Jim was smart, he had been trained intentionally and coincidentally to resist this kind of thing, to think around it but it was basically impossible like this. He tried to remember the coping mechanisms Molly gave him but they eluded him, he tried to escape into his memory palace but the floor was covered in glass and the walls were tilting in his mind. Everything was on fire. Jim pinched his arm, twisting the skin until he bruised just hoping for a moment of clarity. Sebastian and his father toppled to the floor and they wrestled until Moriarty came out on top. He was holding Sebastian’s head under water — Jim couldn’t see any water but he could hear and smell the river, when he closed his eyes to blink it was there in front of him. He was so confused. Which one was real? Sebastian was drowning and his body was pale and bloated with water, there was a water beetle crawling out of his open mouth and twigs and dirt caught in his hair, turning it brown. His eyes were white and lifeless… Jim didn’t understand why his father was drowning Sebastian when he was already dead. “Fuck…. stop. Leave him alone just — leave him. You weren’t supposed to pull him out of the water? Someone’s going to find the body. Put him back. God, put him back…”

 

Sebastian gave a little growl and then stilled, closing his eyes and momentarily letting his head drop against the carpet. On the one hand he was trapped, which hadn't improved matters, on the other hand he was now in a very clear and very obvious place. He was trapped, Jim was in front of him, his mission was quite simply to prevent the person on top of him from harming either of them. There were no words, no crazy psychological manipulation, just a hand holding him down and fear rushing through him. And this was the situation for which Sebastian Moran had been trained. Keeping his body limp his eyes gently flickered open, looking for the knife, pinpointing its position and then he held his pose, waiting, body limp, muscles singing, waiting for the moment when the person on top released their hold a little to focus on Jim he would strike. Foot back to hit their cock, head back to break their jaw, hand wrenching through the hold to grab the knife and then up, through the stomach, to gut them like a fish. He was ready and he could wait. This man couldn't hold him down while hurting Jim, he could only do one.

 

Moriarty kept sat on top of Sebastian, apparently what he was doing was enough to upset Jim. Huh. “What do you see, Jimbo?” He was careful not to put too much pressure on Sebastian’s shoulder because he didn’t exactly want to dislocate anything.

 

Jim shivered, feeling cold and wet. He knew he was going to be next. Jim fucking hated this riverbank, he’d done a lot of pretty terrible and violent shit but this was still a place he occasionally had nightmares about. “He’s — god. I killed him, didn’t I? Seb. Seb? Jesus… you should have left him in the water just put him back, _please_ I don’t want to look at him anymore. I don’t remember hurting him.” Jim knew he must have done it. He didn’t remember killing Carl either.

 

Moriarty found that interesting, if a little fucking weird. Jim looked _younger_ and he suspected that Jim didn’t know where he was or how old they were. “Everyone around you dies Jimmy. Your mum, little Carl, Cyric, all those men you fucked for Mags. Now you’ve offed Seb. You killed all of them, actively or not. When is it going to stop, hmmm? With that Hooper woman? Sherlock? How long before you realize that you’re a cowardly little snake. You should kill yourself. That’s what you want isn’t it? You don’t want to take over for Mags, you’re tired. You’ve gotten your revenge. That’s enough, isn’t it? Don’t you want to stop? There’s a knife right there, take it and cut your wrists.” Moriarty wanted to see how far the drug would push him, how suggestible a subject became.

 

Jim took in a shuddering breath, shaking harder as the drug took full effect. He was terrified and it felt like he could hardly breathe he was so scared — of what he wasn’t sure. Jim was hit by his father’s words and he felt bowed by the weight of everything he said. God he did want it to stop. It made so much sense. He’d done everything he wanted, Sebastian was gone — there really wasn’t a point. Jim didn’t want to hurt Sherlock or Molly. He reached out and took the knife gingerly in his hand while Moriarty stood to his feet, letting Sebastian lay out limp on the floor.

 

Sebastian's eyes widened as he saw Jim lift the knife. Great, another complication. Now there were two people in the room actively trying to hurt Jim and one of them was himself. He was also aware that Jim now thought he was dead, which meant that suddenly shooting his mouth off might just cause Jim to panic and slit his wrists. He waited until Moriarty was stood up completely, until there was no more pressure on him, then he rose like an avenging god, locking his fists together and bringing them both crashing down onto the weakest point in Moriarty's skull he could find, kicking the man aside and quickly wrapping his hands gently around the knife blade, hoping that would be enough to stop Jim wielding it or pressing it stupidly against him. "I'm alive Jim." He managed, softly and raggedly. " **I'm alive and you can't kill me** but I do need my fucking hands so please drop the knife. I'll never die, you little fuck, and certainly not to give you the pleasure." His left hand wrapped around the knife, his right hovering around Jim's shoulder, not wanting to touch him until they both calmed down a little.

 

Moriarty gave a grunt as Sebastian hit him, he let himself hit the floor and he watched carefully from his position on the ground. Fuck, that had hurt. Jim hadn’t tried to take the knife to his skin, but as soon as he felt warm fingers brush his, Jim let go of the knife and looked up in surprise to see Cyric. He thought it was… he was the right height, and blond and built the same way. “No — you can’t be alive. I — I killed you, what do you mean I can’t kill you?” _I’ll never die, you little fuck, and certainly not to give you the pleasure._ Cyric had a knife and Jim shivered hard before rolling over on his side. That was the only comfortable way to lie down when Cyric was there. Jim brought a shaky hand to the scars on his hip where Cyric had carved words into his skin. After — everything, Jim had taken a knife and scratched them out like he was made of tree bark and not skin. “Are you mad?” Jim whispered, lifting his shirt a little to show him. “I cut them out. Are you going to do it over?” That was all he could think of, it was the only time Cyric had taken a knife to him. He felt sick and paralyzed which tended to happen pretty often with Cyric.

 

Sebastian crouched down, quickly holding the knife ready and glancing over at Moriarty - or what he thought was Moriarty. It might not have been, and fuck he didn't know any more. But whoever it was could certainly understand a threatening gesture and didn't look like they were moving. Gently he reached down and stroked the scarred skin, biting his lower lip. "What the hell did that fucker do to you? 'S me, Seb, and I'm not going to hurt you. I've got no idea how to prove that, so you just sit tight while we get this sorted..." He took a deep breath and looked over at the man opposite - maybe it was Moriarty, maybe it was Magnussen, maybe it was Henderson, or some other dark maniac crouching there. "What is it..." he asked raggedly, "The stuff in the gas. Will it clear up? Will he be alright? Is he - fuck..." his heart thumped painfully and he gave a growl. There was less fear now, certainly enough fear for Moran to turn into heated and powerful anger, "Is he going to recover alright? Because if he isn't you'll be dead as soon as Mags's corpse touches the floor.”

 

Jim had lost complete track of what was happening, where he was, and _when_ he was. He knew his father was there, and _Cyric._ He poised the knife above Jim and he tried not to cry. Sixteen was far too old for tears. “I already told you, that game isn’t funny anymore. You aren’t Seb, and I’m not going to call you that while you’re — no.” He felt hot and feverish, Jim didn’t know what to do. “M not going to take your chocolate or your flowers, you’re disgusting. Just leave me alone.”

 

Moriarty watched in fascination, it was like the drug made the subject believe their worst anxieties, the worst possible interpretation of events and made them fit a narrative. Their minds were adapting and trying to make sense of the terror. It was _fascinating._ “Yeah, it’s fine. It doesn’t even last long, maybe thirty minutes for the full effect and then it starts to lessen. No idea how long till it’s totally out of your systems. Neither of you are going to die. Now will you let me get on with what I was doing?”

 

Sebastian looked at Moriarty and for a moment actually hesitated. Would it be worth it, to find what this drug was actually capable of? The he shook his head stubbornly, giving Jim a gentle pat and then coming over to Moriarty, dragging him upright and holding the knife to his throat. "No. What we are going to do now is go back downstairs and get Holmes and Molly up here to help him calm down until he's sorted out again. Because with us in here he's just going to fucking panic. You want to find out what that stuff does? Try it on the cat. Or the Holmes Bitch. Or, I don't know, we might even try it on you if the boss thinks that's a good idea. I'll be sure to drag up all the new techniques I learnt in the desert for you. He did not tell you to do this. I was meant to be the trial run, not him, so now we leave before you overstep your orders again.”

 

“He really shouldn’t be left alone, even to get Hooper. Watson is a better bet than Holmes, he’s just outside and there’s fuck all he can do to actually help.” Moriarty stood and didn’t fight Sebastian as he dragged him to his feet. He thought the man might still be under the effects of the drugs. “I didn’t overstep my bounds, he told me to test the drug and figure out how to weaponize it. He wasn’t pushing you, he was being too soft and I had to step in. I couldn’t give you a second dose, you already had too much and I needed Sherlock to listen in and take notes. I _was_ following orders.” Mostly. He shook Sebastian off, “stay with him, don’t let him hurt himself and I’ll go get Watson and Hooper.”

 

"Why would he be soft on me? He practically threw me out eariler." Sebastian sneered back, giving Moriarty a shove in the direction of the door. "I want Holmes in here; he made the damn drug, he knows how to use it. Besides... he's Jim's fucking lover isn't he? He'll be the comfort Jim wants." Carefully, he moved to sit opposite Jim, looking at him and then putting the knife down on the floor and slowly raising his arms. "Can you hear me, Jim? It's me. Seb. Your dad's pumped some kind of shit drug into you. Try and get through it, yeah? I know you can and I know you will.”

 

“He’s soft on you for the same reason he’s always soft on you, don’t be obtuse.” Moriarty shook his head dismissively, “You’re hysterical. Sherlock come in! Don’t let your jealousies get in the way, it’s pathetic.” Moriarty waved Sherlock in and started shouting for Watson and Hooper.

 

Jim was curled up on his little mattress, his wrist pulled close to his body. He watched Cyric closely, waiting for him to pounce. “My da left, isn’t that your signal? Just — just stop with the Seb shit, do what you want just leave that out of it.” It was a weak bargain, Cyric _always_ did whatever he wanted but Jim had a choice how much he participated. “I always get through it, aren’t I good to you? Thanks for the vote of confidence but I think I can take a cock just fine.”

 

Sebastian chewed at the inside of his lip, not sure whether there was anything he could say that would make Jim realise it was him, any words that were just theirs, that Cyric didn't know. Sherlock rushed in and then it was too late anyway, because he certainly wasn't going to go mushy in front of Holmes. Sherlock hurried over, collapsing in front of Jim, wide eyes and worried, "Alright Jim, I've got something here, might help to neutralize it. Probably won't but it should calm you down..."

 

Sebastian sighed, then went over to Moriarty, grinning as he was now taller than the man. "You were following your orders." He said formally, "You also probably outrank me. But right now the boss is out of it and, well." Grabbing the back of Moriarty's head, he slammed his face hard and suddenly into the brick wall, giving a grin as something cracked, "Try and heal up before he comes around, or you'll get me in trouble again. I'll be keeping watch if he needs me." He nodded at John as he rushed in, frowning, "Watson! Look after Jim, make sure nobody else hurts him, you capable of that? I'll be on the roof.”

 

Moriarty held in any noise until after Sebastian left, he’d felt his orbital socket crack, _fuck_ that was going to be a bitch to heal. Jesus. He just sat up with his back against the brick and breathed through the pain. He’d get Watson to look over him after Jim.

 

Jim did not react well to all of the change, to so many people coming and going — it was too difficult to make sense of. Sherlock was there and Jim shook in relief. “What are you — you need to leave, they are going to hurt you… Is Mycroft here? He’s come to get me right? Quick, before he comes back.” Sherlock was shoving something under his nose and telling him to breathe but he didn’t understand what was supposed to be happening. “J - John?” Jim took a shuddering breath and blinked away the tears of relief forming in his eyes. He was still terrified they were all going to get caught and hurt but they were going to get him away from Cyric. “You’re here? I thought you hated me. Thank you — fuck I thought you were just going to leave me here to be hurt.” Jim’s shoulders shook and he had to cover his mouth with his hand, it was all way too much right now. “I knew you wouldn’t leave me.”

 

John hadn't known what to expect and this sudden slamming back to the way he should have rescued Jim actually bought tears to his eyes. Clearing his throat, he nodded carefully, "Yes, it's me John. You're safe now, Cyric's gone, we're going to take care of you." Sherlock shot him a quizzical glare but did not interrupt. "I wouldn't leave you to be hurt." John said gently, taking his hand, "Are you injured? Did Cyric hurt you?"

 

Sherlock drew back once Jim had inhaled a little, his eyes flickering towards Moriarty, "You should probably leave. If he sees you he may panic again. And if you don't get some ice on your face it'll swell.”

 

Moriarty flipped Sherlock off and went in search of Dr. Hooper. Jim held on tight to John’s sleeve, worried that if he let go he’d leave. He couldn’t seem to keep track of where people were… or what location they were at. Jim thought they were in his father’s rooms but he didn’t remember brick walls. He had to wipe his eyes when John said he was safe, finally finally safe, and Jim trusted him. “I thought you hated me because of Sherlock…” That was the last time he’d talked to John after all, when Magnussen told John that Jim had been having sex with him. “I think he said I’m drugged? I feel hot and my heart won’t stop racing.” He was calming down a little, but there was a heavy feeling like something terrible was going to happen.

 

"I don't hate you Jim." John said gently, nodding, "Yes, you've been drugged. Some sort of hallucinogen which is affecting your body - it's making you feel panicked and fearful. It shouldn't last for too much longer, just stay strong for a bit." He knew that when Jim came around, when Jim remembered what he'd said, he'd most likely be angry and irritated, or at least contemptuous of the lies, but for now he just wanted to keep Jim alive, and maybe remind himself of all the things he should have said the first time around. "You are safe now, no Cyric, no Moriarty and no Magnussen. Stay calm and the effects will pass.”

 

“I killed Sebastian…” that was starting to come back to him, the bloated corpse and — he didn’t understand when he had done that. “Was — was that a hallucination?” This was real though, wasn’t it? “M’not afraid, I just don’t want you to get caught… what if he finds you? I — I _killed_ Cyric and he’s still here and I don’t know what to do. He’s going to find me.” He was getting agitated again and he saw the bruising around John’s face. “Did he hurt you?”

 

"You had a hallucination about Sebastian." John said gravely, pleased that Jim was calming down and feeling his own panic recede. "Cyric is definitely dead, you hallucinated him as well. Your father was here, but he's gone now, and won't be coming back. Shhh..." He gave a brief smile and shook his head as Jim asked about the bruising. "No, this was just from a bit of trouble at the school. All sorted now. Your head is in a mess, but it will clear.”

 

“N— no Cyric was here. He had that knife,” Jim pointed to it on the floor. “He t-touched me, I felt his hands were warm. John he’s not dead.” Jim couldn’t hide from someone he couldn’t kill. “Did they hurt you for helping me? My wrist is okay, I’ve got arthritis in it now cause it never healed right but you kept it from getting more broken.” That — was wrong. His wrist was still healing, wasn’t it? But the arthritis thing was true, he remembered going to a doctor… after everything, after that school year was over. Time was not linear. “Where is Seb? He’s supposed to be here, is he still at basic training?”

 

"Seb isn't here, don't worry..." John said a little anxiously, "Cyric wasn't here either, you were confused. Your father gave you the drug, he's messing with your mind, you know he does that." He wasn't at all sure that he was answering the questions the right way, but he just wanted Jim to stay calm and not panic until the affects of the drug fully wore off, and if that meant pretending they were in Jim's childhood, then that was what he'd do. "Your wrist is fine, concentrate on breathing, relax. They haven't hurt me.”

 

Jim glanced at Sherlock in confusion… “I swear he was here… didn’t you see him? You two were in the room together, maybe John missed him.” Jim stared listlessly, not understand what was going on. Facts. Right. Jim thought around the panic… “No. No my wrist isn’t fine. I _do_ have arthritis in the joint. I was so angry because seventeen is too young…” Jim trailed off. He wasn’t seventeen, he was sixteen. No, that wasn’t right either. He’d gone to the doctor… for a checkup. Before he went on his first assassination job for Magnussen. That was in the future? Or the past? “W-How long has it been since Cyric died?” That was an important marker.

 

John hesitated, and then decided to go with the truth. "Five years. Cyric's been dead for five years and your father is messing with your mind."

Sherlock looked around and then murmured, "Sebastian was here, but now he's gone." He wasn't entirely pleased with what John was doing. Jim didn't need more confusing fantasies, he needed the truth to cling onto. Still, John was the doctor and at least the panic seemed to be receding, even if Jim was having a very hard time re-adjusting. He chewed worriedly on his bottom lip, reviewing the chemical makeup of the drug he'd just pumped into his lover.

 

“You aren’t here to help me.” Jim felt his heart rate accelerate but this time it was in anger instead of fear. “You fucking _lied_ to me.” Jim stood suddenly and had to lean against the wall for balance as he stared down at John. “Did that feel good then? Get your rocks off on _fixing_ your fuck up? You aren’t sorry, I know you aren’t. Oh but you’re so happy to put on your tears and your smiles because you can’t stand the idea of him realizing what a shit stain you are. You can’t look bad in front of Sherlock.” Jesus… five years. It was coming back to Jim in bits and pieces, although he couldn’t remember his most recent memories yet. His fear turned to rage and he towered over John. “You — you are so fucking pathetic. You hate Sebastian because he would have shot Mags through the fucking head for me, and you couldn’t even stand to look at me, you let me think you hated me because of a mistake I made with an older man and you were so _jealous_ and _threatened_ by a child that you let them _rape_ me and _disfigure_ me and you couldn’t even be kind to me.” Jim was screaming at John and he dove for the knife, wanting it in his hand, wanting to hurt him.

 

"I never hated you... Jesus, Jim." John stepped back suddenly as the knife was wielded, standing in front of Sherlock to protect him. "I wasn't good for you, I fucked up a huge amount, but I never hated you and I never wanted to hurt you." It ended with a yelp, covering Sherlock and leaving the room, slamming the door behind as Sebastian and Moriarty ran up, both alerted by the screams.

 

"What the fuck is going on?" Sebastian hissed, knocking John out of the way and grabbing at the door handle. "You said he shouldn't be in there alone, is he - you left him in there with my _knife?"_ Snarling he wrenched the door open, punched Moriarty in the face on general terms and stepped into the room, moving into a crouch and circling Jim, bolting the door behind him as Sherlock desperately tried to get it open again.

 

Jim snarled as John and Sherlock bolted out the door. He tried the knob but when he couldn’t get it open Jim started to stab at the door furiously, just wanting to destroy something. He had to step back as Sebastian suddenly was there. “You — you look like Sebastian, but he said you aren’t here. Or… you were, but you’re not now. Are you Cyric? John said you’re dead but he’d a _fucking liar!”_ Jim screamed at the door. Sebastian wouldn’t circle him like this, that was something Cyric did if Jim tried to run away. “I will stab you in the eye, don’t think I won’t. If you come for me, you’d better just hope you’re faster.”

 

"I'm not Cyric, you daft little sod, it's me, Sebastian." Sebastian put his hands up, still on edge, still not sure Jim would attack him, and keeping his distance. “I'm here, and I don't want to hurt you and I'm not going to try and fuck you. Cyric is dead. You ripped his throat out, remember?" Maybe he could get the right memories out of Jim and slowly he dropped his hands, just standing upright against the wall, trying not to look threatening. "You tore out his throat. He died in his own blood. He is _gone.”_

 

Jim tilted his head up aggressively, responding to Sebastian’s challenge. “How do I know? What’s something that only you would know?” He just couldn’t be sure and he knew as soon as he let Cyric near him he would pounce. “Don’t — don’t talk about things you don’t understand.” Jim backed up until his legs hit the bed. “You — he was raping me and his blood was in my mouth and in my eyes and it wasn’t exactly a _triumphant victory_ alright?”

 

"It didn't say it was triumphant." Sebastian replied, voice low and feeling a stabbing pain for everything Jim had been through. “But it happened. You know that. You _know_ he's dead. Something only I would know..." He scrubbed his eyes wearily and slid down to sit against the wall, voice resigned. "The last time you called me, from Magnussen's office. We had a code, with my name. Sebby if you wanted me to stay put, and Seb if you wanted me to come and join you." He gave a rueful grin, "And if you were alone you had to say ‘I love you.’ Hardest thing for you to say, but I never cared. Never needed to hear you say it. I didn't stay celibate for you Jim, you knew that'd never last. But... heh... kept my arse for you. Nobody else has been near that. 'S yours.”

 

Jim kept the knife in his hand but he came over to stand in front of Sebastian. “You — you were being such a cunt. That’s… the drugs. I drugged you and then I questioned you.” He finally seemed to settle and he knew what the present was. Jim was still furious but it was more of a rational anger instead of that blind fury he’d felt before. “I remember the code. You kept your arse for me?” Jim tilted his head to the side, feeling bewildered and touched, sort of. “No. You didn’t think about me while you were gone. You moved on. Don’t do this, don’t be so shitty after the night I’ve had.” Jim didn’t want Sebastian playing with him, not right now.

 

Sebastian gave a shrug, his own fear was dying down, but he was starting to feel a bit of a backwash of apathetic misery, not to mention trying to process all the information that had happened, what Cyric had done to Jim, what they all had. "Of course I thought about you. Thought about you all the time. I did it for you, didn't I? Well, for me as well, but I wanted to be strong enough to beat back anything Mycroft threw at me so I could rush in a get you. Then you told me not to, then you... just dropped off the radar. I stopped looking, so yeah, failed a bit." He gave a half shrug and managed a fake sort of grin, "Course I kept it for you, why would I want any other bugger in there? Big strong fucker like Sebastian Moran? I had a reputation to uphold, and sex didn't really fit into it." Sighing, he tilted his head back against the wall looking up at Jim. "Alright boss, give me about twenty minutes and I'll be back to normal. Your boyfriend's fucking dangerous with his chemicals. You want any truthful answers now is your time to get them because I'm still not sure whether I'm about to piss myself and I've stopped giving a damn.”

 

Jim watched him expressionlessly the whole time he talked, then he squatted between his spread legs and bend in to kiss him fiercely as he buried the knife in the drywall by his head. He was already stripping off Sebastian’s shirt, wanting to get another peek at the skin he saw the day before in the kitchen. “All I want to know is you want to fuck me as much as I want you.” Jim still had anger thudding behind his eyeballs and he bit at Sebastian’s lip while he scratched his fingernails from his shoulder to the line of his trousers.

 

Sebastian half flinched as the knife came thudding down but then Jim's lips were on his and sharp fingernails were dragging across his skin and suddenly the listless fear and apathy were replaced entirely by a white-hot wire of need and desire. Shrugging the rest of the shirt off he wrapped his arms around Jim's body, kissing him back fiercely, moaning as lips and nails attacked his skin, desperately trying to drink in as much of Jim as he could, "I need you Jim..." he gasped as the kiss broken, "And I've fucking wanted you for five years and if you feel even half as much of that, that'll be good enough for me.”

 

“Fuck me,” Jim gasped as they tipped over and Sebastian was on top of him and it felt _right._ He let his hands wander down to Sebastian’s trousers and he gripped his arse so that he could rut up against him. He was shaking with need and that heady mix of anger and fear that hadn’t entirely bled out of his system. “I thought about you,” Jim kissed frantically, anywhere he could get his lips or teeth, “all the time,” he scratched dark red lined down Sebastian’s back, “while I was with other people. I did all of this for you and now you’re here…” he couldn’t breathe and it felt like his heart was going like a rabbit. “Fuck me up.”

 

"Whatever you ask, boss." Sebastian groaned back, each scratch and bite turning him on. It had been so long since the last time sex had been something more than holding semi-terrified young man in place that this was something wild and new and beautiful. Reaching down, he tore away Jim's clothes, kissing along the tattoos and giving a growl, "Bastards. You'll get them back. Didn't deserve any of this." His teeth nipped on clear skin, his tongue licking afterwards, his cock hard and pressing eagerly against Jim's as he worked his way up to lick and bite at Jim's earlobe.

 

“Dear dad did those,” Jim gasped as Sebastian felt the bumps under the tattoo ink where the cigarette scars were. He’d gotten them tattooed over and the dots connected in blue ink before his first job — no one wanted a whore with burns all over them so Jim made them beautiful. Right now Seb’s mouth was over Cygnus. “There’s exactly one hundred dots. At least he gave me something to work with, you have to admit the constellations are clever.” Jim moaned and lifted his hips off the ground. “Hold me down or else I’m going to grab that knife and bury it in your back.” No one was rough with him in a good way anymore, he always topped Sherlock, Jim hated it when his marks were rough, and even back in the day Sebastian had mostly tried to be very gentle with him because Jim was usually sporting bruises or injuries.

 

Sebastian gave another lust-fueled growl at the threat, wrapping his arms around Jim and pushing them both up enough to stagger over to the bed, spreading Jim out over it and then holding him still with his body weight, his mouth travelling all over his body, "One hundred and fifty dots? That's one hundred and fifty things I've got to do to him then, I'll try and think up some interesting ideas. You look like a galaxy boss, like a universe." He let Jim's hips lift up again, tugging his own trousers away before seeing to Jim's, not wanting the other to be more naked than him at any point. His hands splayed out over the constellations on Jim's chest, before one hand moved up and Sebastian slid his finger into his mouth, sticking his tongue out under it at Jim, "Mmmm... fuck... want me to fill you up then? Take you and fill you and properly fuck you up completely." He felt a little shameful spark of relief that he hadn't been called upon to take Jim the first time himself.

 

Jim let the air rush out of him as his back hit the mattress, he made a token effort at resisting Sebastian but he was pinned and settled. He gave a little laugh and reached down to squeeze Sebastian’s cock uncomfortably, “I said one-hundred exactly. You are thinking with _this.”_ Jim gave another hard squeeze, looking to cause discomfort as much as arouse him. “I didn’t think you liked them — the tattoos.” Sebastian had ignored them and only gave a look of disgust the one time he saw Jim’s chest. “They’re all over. Get my trousers off and you can see more.” Sebastian obediently took off Jim’s trousers, and his own for good measure. “Fuck you look good,” Jim gasped as he pressed a thigh urgently against Sebastian’s cock. He moaned happily as Sebastian put his thumb in Jim’s mouth and the worked his tongue inside, “Yes. God yes. You’ve gotten bigger, I swear.” Jim hadn’t been interested in bottoming, not for years, but suddenly he needed it like he’d lose his mind if he wasn’t filled in the next few minutes. “If you’re clean don’t use a condom. I don’t want a lot of lube, just do it. I want to feel it.” Jim wrapped a little hand teasingly around Sebastian’s throat, urging him on.

 

Sebastian gave a pained and desperately turned-on little whine as Jim squeezed his cock. Nobody had given him this much shit during sex before since Jim last time and fuck he'd missed it. He hesitated a little, thinking. Was he clean? When had his last medical been? "Yeah, clear bill at my last check-up." He finally remembered with a grin, his eyes hot, "Can I, really? With you? No condom - oh fuuuckk..." His thumb slid away quickly, pressing into Jim while one hand kept his hips up and the other gently tugged at his hair and stroked his face, "I'm no bigger, just look it next to all those other tiny knobs you work for. Fucking love your stars, just thought they might be a mark from - someone else. Fucked if I'd let anyone else do that to you." His mouth moved down to lick along another constellation while his thumb worked away, "You'll have to tell me what they're all called some time. I'll forget, but maybe if I see them enough I might remember, hmm?”

 

“Good. I think I’m fine. It should be okay. I don’t really care.” Jim couldn’t breathe he was dizzy with Sebastian and his taste and his smell and his heat. He made a disgruntled little noise as Sebastian pressed a thumb inside of him, it was going to be rough — Jim hadn’t had anything inside of him for a while but he wanted it that way. “Pull my hair.” That was okay as long as there wasn’t a cock in his mouth, and Jim’s hair was longer now, they could actually do that. “Nah, just my da. This one’s Cyric’s but I cut it out.” Jim’s fingers brushed over the scars on his hip as Sebastian worked that thumb in and out of him. “This one’s Cygnus,” he said as he brushed the cross over his neck and chest. “This one’s scorpio.” On his right thigh. “Ursa Minor.” on the back of his left hand.

 

Jim giving him orders somehow made him smile and feel incredibly happy about all this. Particularly as Jim was ordering him to do things he very much wanted to do. With a grin he bit down on the part of skin that was in his mouth and roughly wrenched Jim's head back, "Wish I could've cut that bastard out." He muttered, twisting his thumb but not adding anything else in, not yet, "I'm gonna fuck you over properly boss, the way you've missed and wanted. You just keep saying what you need and I'll keep giving it to you till you're sated." He licked up a tattoo line and then added a little rougher, a little lower, "And I'm going to fucking enjoy it, being back with you, god you're beautiful.”

 

“Ahhh… mmmmm.” Jim arched and rubbed his cock against Sebastian’s as he pulled his hair and sucked and bit at his skin. “Fuuuuuuk yes. Yes, god. Missed you. Wanted you all the time.” He snorted, “beautiful? Jesus you should have seen me before I covered all the scars with tattoos, I looked like Frankenstein. Here, this one’s Cassiopeia.” Jim lowered Sebastian’s hand to his left leg. “And this one on my arm is aquarius.” That was his right shoulder. “And libra…” high up on his right thigh. “I can show you the rest when you put me on my hands and knees.”

 

"Oh don't you worry I'll be doing that..." Sebastian growled back, heated and eager. His hand trailed over the lines on Jim's leg, trailing down to his inner thigh and then poking at where his thumb pressed inside the tight little entrance, "Mmm... ready to be opened up a little more, boss? I so fucking want to get inside you, can't bloody wait. Missed this for -" He buried his head into Jim's neck and kissed and nipped at it, to prevent himself from saying anything too embarrassing.

 

He gasped as Sebastian bit at his neck, whining low in his throat for it. “Jesus I hope they aren’t all standing outside the door still.” Jim bucked his hips, trying to get Sebastian’s attention again. “This is Canis Major,” he brought Sebastian’s hand across his flat stomach. “I’m turning over now.” Jim flipped and presented his arse, rubbing it against Sebastian’s crotch invitingly. “Go ahead. More.”

 

"I fucking bet they are and I don't give a shit." Sebastian said smugly. With Jim here now there was very little he gave a shit about, particularly given he'd fucked up James Moriarty’s face as an added bonus. He moaned as Jim rolled over, rubbing and squeezing at his arse, giving a it a few gentle little slaps to see how that went and then sliding his thumb out, replacing it with two quickly wetted fingers. "Mmmm... I'll stretch you open like this luv, but I want to watch your face as I slide my cock into you, yeah? Watch you lose it completely.”

 

“You can try,” Jim taunted as Sebastian slid the two fingers in. It wasn’t really doing it for him, even without the lube because he was too damaged, he needed deep penetration to feel anything good because Cyric had torn him open too many times and Jim hadn’t received medical care until it was way too late. He did give a short little moan when Sebastian slapped at his arse and squeezed it. That felt plenty good. “On my right shoulder is leo, the left shoulder is cancer. Draco is on my arse and lupus is on my lower back — ahhh!” Jim pushed back against Sebastian hungrily, he wanted to lose himself in this.

 

"I made you forget your stars..." Sebastian murmured smugly, arching over him to kiss at his neck again. He gave a slightly firmer slap to Jim's arse, then grabbed at his hair, his other hand working two fingers to stretch him, a little sadened to note that Jim seemed to have lost a fair amount of sensation, but only because he wanted Jim to enjoy everything as much as possible. Moving his mouth down he worried away at the little tattoos, his fingers starting to slam back and forward, "And now on your right shoulder is Sebastian Moran and on your left arse-cheek is Sebastian Moran and soon I'll be completely filling up inside you, yeah?" It felt wierd, to be asking for permission during sex, but this was different completely to the rough and passionless fucks he'd had in the army.

 

“Fuck you…” Jim moaned, “I can’t see those ones as well, you have a better view right now.” He loved feeling Sebastian’s cock sliding between his cheeks and across his lower back as he leaned forward to kiss at his neck. “Unf. Yessss, pull harder.” Jim’s neck was already taunt from Sebastian pulling his hair back and it felt amazing. “God I want you inside me now. Come on…” Jim’s voice had a whiney tinge and he pressed his arse back against Sebastian’s hand demandingly. “Yes yes yes, I want you inside, fuck me now.”

 

Sebastian took a few more minutes to stretch Jim a little further, "Mmmm... fuck your eager, heh heh, just you wait boss, s'gonna be great." And then slid his fingers out, reaching around Jim's body he tugged him up with one hand in his hair and the other sliding down to his cock, biting hard on Jim's earlobe as he pressed his cock home, hissing into Jim's ear at the tight heat surrounding him but not stilling or slowing for an instant.

 

Jim’s breath caught and his fists squeezed the sheets as Sebastian pulled him up so that Jim sat backwards in his lap, with his back pressed against the other man’s chest, as he was pulled down to his cock. He gave a yelp, taking Sebastian practically dry hurt but he’d been stretched enough that Jim wasn’t going to bleed. His cock strained and bounced against his stomach as Jim started moving, bouncing backwards on Sebastian’s prick. “Oh god… I want to feel it.” He was a mix of fear and arousal and Jim couldn’t help but remember that pain that was supposed to go with that, it just wouldn’t be right without it. “Use me.”

 

"Don't you worry boss, I will." Sebastian growled into his ear, promising Jim anything he could want as his hips thrust deep inside him. He could feel the tightness, but Jim didn't seem to have torn, and also seemed pretty delirious with pleasure, so he kept thrusting, bouncing Jim against his lap and wrapping both hands around him, one stroking his hard cock, the other tweaking at nipples and sliding nails over his skin, "Mmmm... I'm going to take you till you cum into oblivion, Jim, and fuck you harder than you've had before. Make you all mine again.”

 

“Un, yes yes…” Their skin slapped together and he wanted him so very badly, especially when Sebastian started touching him back. “Oh yeah… yes harder.” Jim frowned, keeping quiet as Sebastian said he was going to make him exclusively his again. He didn’t belong to anyone now… no one could own him, he rented by the hour. He didn’t say anything directly though because he knew it would disrupt what they were doing.

 

Sebastian noticed the little frown and grinned, snapping at Jim's ear and muttering huskily, "You're the boss, boss - you do what you want, and you fuck who you want. You're a fucking universe, nobody could control you or own you. But right now, let a randy soldier dream, yeah?" Sliding a hand down he grabbed Jim's hips and started moving them, thrusting up hard and powerful inside him, and moaning out, gasping Jim's name breathily as he moved.

 

Jim hissed and snarled as Sebastian snapped his teeth at his ear, “Just so long as you understand.” Jim liked this position but he also wanted to scratch and bite at Sebastian’s skin, dig his claws in until they wouldn’t come out without drawing blood. “Dream on tiger.” He made a little noise as Sebastian started moving inside him gripping his hands hard were it was holding Jim’s hip, and he twisted their finger together. Jim tilted his head back onto Sebastian’s shoulder and started kissing him, biting at his tongue when it entered his mouth.

 

Jim's words made him moan even deeper, lifting and moving away slightly to twist Jim around to face him, keeping the young man supported in his lap, letting Jim bite and scratch at his skin. "Mmm well this tiger is yours, whenever you want him." He murmured low into Jim's ear, "And I'll be tight as all shit because it's been five years since you last got in there." He grabbed at Jim's hand again, twining fingers in between his and squeezing tight. "Oh I'll be dreaming, been dreaming for the last five years. But now you're here…"

 

“You were being a cunt, I think I won’t fuck you, I think I’ll leave you all empty and desperate for a while…” Jim straddled Sebastian’s lap and moved around so that their chests were pressed against each other, Jim rubbed his chest against Sebastian’s, playing with his nipples, pinching and twisting them hard. “Have you really? Because I was led to believe you thoroughly put me out of your mind and… mmm fuck how did you put it? You weren’t wanking over my photo?” Jim latched his mouth onto Sebastian’s throat and bit at the skin threateningly over the same place where he tore out Cyric’s throat.

 

"Unh... little shit..." Sebastian groaned, yelping a little as Jim twisted his nipples, bouncing Jim down harder and cracking a hand across his backside, "Course I said that, you think I should start every job by confessing to the boss that I've been fucking _aching_ thinking they were dead? And you didn't even leave me with a photo you bastard." His head tilted back, panting as he dug his nails into Jim's arse and rode him harder, "Don't you dare - I've had too many scares today to die.”

 

Jim jolted as Sebastian spanked him hard — fuck he want frantic now, desperately chasing that desire and that elusive flame that kept him alive for so long, the dream that one day he could have this if he wanted to. Now he did have it and it didn’t feel the way he thought it would so he pushed harder, moved faster, gasping for breath as his heart pounded with the effects of the drug and their activities. “Yes you should have just said that, our reunion in the men’s room could have gone quite differently.” Jim took Sebastian leaning his head away as an invitation and he kissed the skin he could reach, wrapping two hands around the base of Sebastian’s throat but not squeezing yet. “Lay on your back.”

 

"I dunno - fucking you all up in a grubby bathroom wouldn't have been very romantic. I seem to remember promising you a proper bath." Sebastian smirked, dropping back as Jim ordered, giving him another spank, slightly lighter and rocking his hips against him. His breath caught as the hands wrapped around his neck, muscles tensing and then relaxing, looking up at Jim with warm eyes, mostly trusting but still with an edge to protect himself from danger. His hands stayed put on Jim's bottom, trying to squeeze and rub as much sensation as possible into the skin pink with handprints.

 

“This isn’t exactly romantic either in case you haven’t noticed.” Jim’s expression was very vulnerable for a moment when Sebastian mentioned the bath, that was how he’d most often pictured their reunion… then too much time had passed and he’d gotten more involved with Sherlock and it wasn’t fun anymore to hurt himself with the fantasy he couldn’t have. Sebastian tipped back and Jim cleared his expression, all vulnerability gone. “Your sort of close, right? I hope so, because I’m not going to let you breathe until the moment you come.” Jim pinched Sebastian’s nose and covered his mouth with the same hand and he started to ride him hard, clenching around him tightly and trying to get him to come apart. “Tap my thigh when you are ready and I’ll let go.”

 

"You wha-" Sebastian managed before the hand closed over his mouth and nose, eyes widening in shock as Jim rode him expertly. His hand grabbed at Jim's thigh but then just held it, heart hammering as he felt himself build up. It was a strange sensation - he wasn't trapped, he could have thrown Jim off at any moment and snapped him in half, but he _wanted_ to be here, drowning in the air, legs twitching as the blood rushed down and suddenly there wasn't enough blood in his body or oxygen in is blood. He looked straight into Jim's eyes, dark deep and dangerous and knew, knew that if he never tapped Jim's leg the young man would easily, happily strangle him and then his eyes snapped shut and his body twitched and trembled and he obediently waiting for as long as he could, as late as he could, before his fingers twitched a staccato tapping onto Jim's thigh, while his other hand scratched across his arse.

 

He moaned raggedly to watch Sebastian try and stay still under him, the way his face turned red then white and Jim continued to ride his cock like this was the last chance he’d ever get. It was an enormous turn on for Jim, being on top of him and having someone be so obedient, even to the point that he could really get hurt if he misplaced his trust in Jim. He was pretty close too and he was hoping to time his orgasm close to his. Sebastian finally tapped his thigh and Jim nodded. “If I let you have air and you don’t come I’m going to be very cross with you…” Jim warned after Sebastian tapped his thigh but he lifted his hand, allowing Sebastian to breathe and Jim crashed his hips down to meet his, hoping he’d get a fucking good orgasm out of that.

 

Sebastian desperately and greedily gulped in a lungful of air, losing almost all of it immediately as Jim's arse forced down and tightened around him, his orgasm crashing down as he still tried to breath, little yelps and pants and gasping retches escaping him as his body tried to scream and breath simultaneously and his eyes rolled up, his hands grabbing Jim, his legs twitching. It was a rush, like being pulled backwards underwater tanked on adrenaline while working through an intense and much-needed emotional orgasm. He wasn't even sure how long it got on for, or if Jim came as well, and let out a weak little noise as he started to recover and his vision returned.

 

Jim did come, stroking himself like crazy and watching Sebastian come apart and break into pieces underneath him. He seemed to pass out for a bit, or at best his consciousness was dubious. It wasn’t until he started to come around though that Jim spoke. “You know they call the orgasm the little death. I can see why when you come like that. Did your brain hemorrhage or something?” Jim wasn’t interested in lounging around so he kissed Sebastian on the rather large set of teeth marks he left on his neck before cleaning himself up with Sebastian’s sheets and standing to get his clothes. The shirt was torn and ruined, that fucker. Button on his trousers came off too and Jim couldn’t find it so he just tugged them on and hoped he didn’t meet anyone in the hall in his half dressed state. “See you around,” he waved and carried his shoes and shirt back to his room, closing the brutally stabbed door closed behind him.

 

Sebastian managed a "nuhuh..." back, still trying to get and keep as much oxygen inside him as possible, scrabbling around for his clothes as Jim vanished and wondering whether he'd just been dismissed. Was he - part of Jim's little group of people he fucked now? He wasn't sure. But fucking hell he'd needed that. He had a smirk on as he opened the door, bumping into an irritated looking Sherlock and worried John outside, "What? Oh yeah. Well. He's better I guess." Giving a grin he patted Sherlock's cheek absently, "Yeah, next time you drug him try using something less dangerous, almost got killed in there." With that he was happy to head to his bathroom, washing his face and body with a flannel and looking at the marks Jim had left in a long mirror. Sighing, he shook his head, giving another grin at himself. "That's it. I'm fucked. Back all over him like a schoolboy with a crush. Fuck.”

 

Jim went back to his room, showered and winced a little at the state of him in the mirror, neither of them had gone easy on each other and that familiar sore feeling in his arse was promptly ignored. When he was able to dress, Jim tried to work out what he should do about his da, Sebastian, Sherlock, and John. Not necessarily in that order. He was a little emotionally unbalanced, the product of the drug wearing off and he still burned with anger whenever he thought of John. Fucker should have just let Jim stab him, it would make him feel better but Sherlock would cry. He heard a knock at the door and opened it to find Molly. “Oh. Hello.” Jim didn’t know if anyone had bothered to tell her what happened or how much she knew about the experiments.

 

"Hi Jim?" She looked at him, a little confused and concerned. "Sherlock said he'd given you some sort of... drug? I wanted to check you were alright?" She bit her lip as she saw the state his body was in. "Did you have a fight with your father, he's in the kitchen with an ice-pack on his face and you look - a little battered. Some sort of hallucinogen, and they said you had a bad experience." She took a breath and tried to get her thoughts in order, "It sounded like a bad trip, I wondered if you needed a chat.”

 

“Sherlock didn’t do anything it was my fucking da trying to have a laugh but he actually had a point to it, as _usual._ Sorry, come in.” Jim invited her inside and shut the door behind them so he wouldn’t be disturbed. He was exhausted and stretched out on his stomach on the bed so Molly could have the armchair or share the bed if she wanted. “That was the worst fucking trip I’ve ever had. We studied it before tests and it’s meant to aggravate the parts of the brain that house fear and panic and aggression. After prolonged exposure subjects eventually murdered and cannibalized each other. It’s meant to break up an enemy camp, get them all to destroy each other. American developed it, no fucking surprise there. I thought a one-time small dose could be used for psychological interrogation. Torture hasn’t gotten us anywhere with Mags. Anyway — I don’t really remember everything and I honestly can’t tell you what was real and what wasn’t. I had a bad reaction, worse than Seb did. I think the drug triggered flashbacks and then the hallucinatory agent made them impossible to break out of. I tried.” Jim defended himself bitterly, feeling sulky that everyone had seen him so weak and now he had to talk to Molly about it. “I’m fine.”

 

"Jim - you were given a chemical to make you afraid and you got afraid. That's not something to be _ashamed_ of. That's normal." She gave a disgusted face as he mentioned his father but then remained professional. "That stuff was a weapon. You wouldn't try out a gun on yourself and then think you were weak because it broke through your skin. It sounds like irresponsible testing to me." She reached forward and gently patted his head, "You'll be alright, or else Sherlock will answer to me. Just if you wanted a sympathetic ear, I'm here.”

 

Jim grumbled unhappily but didn’t argue with her assessment. “You weren’t there.” Jim bit his lip and then figured he needed to tell her the other part. “Uh — my da was testing the drug, and I think that there might make the subject psychologically vulnerable? Open to suggestion? He made a pretty compelling argument for why I should kill myself and then pointed out a knife. I think I would have done it. I wasn’t myself.” Jim defended, “But I’m hoping there’s no after effects from that.” I thought Sebastian was Cyric and my father was there so I thought I was back in his house when I was sixteen. No one hurt me, obviously. John — John fucking _lied_ to me, and told me that he was there to help me get out of there, and _of course_ he’d never leave me there. He’s so full of shit. I don’t even know why he’s still here, probably hopes he can impress Sherlock with his _moral fortitude._ He didn’t have to lie to me.” He growled and scratched at the complete Aquarius tattoo on his arm. “That’s why the anger set in, I tried to stab him with a knife, then I wrecked the door and Sebastian came in and we fucked on the bed and I came back here and showered. You’re here now and I think you’re fully caught up on events. Aren’t you sorry you missed all of that?”

 

Molly nodded, "Watch out for that, you might feel a bit more vulnerable or shaky especially around suicidal issues. I - well - I'm sure John was trying his best, but he's not at all qualified to deal with this sort of thing. He's going through a lot of problems right now which, I'm sure you don't particularly care about, which is understandable." Her eyebrows briefly rose at the mention of Sebastian, "Was Moran... he didn't push you into anything did he? A relationship with him could be a good idea, or it could just work you both up even further.”

 

Jim tisked unhappily but he thought she could be right. Thinking back on that time period now felt like a fresh wound instead of one he spent years burying and scarring over. “I don’t understand how he could look me in the eye and say that shit. Sherlock was the one who got me out eventually, I was able to put events in linear order because Sherlock wasn’t lying to me and encouraging the hallucinations.” Jim paused to think about her questions about Sebastian and eventually he shrugged. “He didn’t push me. It probably wasn’t a good situation or circumstance. I certainly left more marks on him than he did on me. Why do you think that fucking him over someone else is a good idea?” He asked, genuinely a little curious. Everyone else always seemed to think that Sebastian was bad for Jim.

 

Molly didn't feel quite qualified to talk about John and just gave a little shrug, frowning as she thought of Seb. "I suppose on paper he would be a bad partner. He's violent, history of assault and aggressiveness, they threw him out of the army for being too violent which is something. But on the other hand..." all she could remember was the damaged and pissed off young man bent over her treatment table, shivering and bruised. "You have a history with him. He's been your lover and he seems to care about you. People who care about you are worth hanging onto. Particularly if they can give you the kind of sex you like, which for you is more of a challenge than it might seem. I think you could do a lot worse than Sebastian Moran.”

 

Jim nodded and shrugged, “Well, aren’t I lucky that I don’t have to limit myself to one partner because I have a history with Sherlock too — a much longer one in fact. I’m going to hang on to both of them in whatever way I can. I’m versatile, that’s why sex is difficult. And I _have_ done a lot worse than Sebastian Moran.” Jim frowned at her and started for a while. “I think that puts you up to date. We’ll use the serum on Mags, it’ll be good to break him down even if we can’t get him to give up the information we want.” He sighed heavily and glared at the ceiling, “I’m never going to get resolution with this John thing, am I? I just have to learn to live with it and swallow it down every time I see him.”

 

"Well..." Molly hesitated then, as if she wasn't sure she was hearing herself speaking, "The only option would be to have him killed really. Or to try and understand what he's done and why he saw it as the only course. But... I expect talking to him won't help. He feels far too much pity for you, in a rather unhelpful way. I think it would annoy you, and I'd rather he didn't end up stabbed into the door.”

 

Jim sighed in aggravation, starting to get worked up again. “Normally I don’t have any trouble understanding people’s motivations. I understand why Mags used me and why he chose me, I understand why my father treated me the way he did, I get people, it’s what I’m good at. I will never understand why someone like John did what he did. He’s a good person, he’s not like Mycroft who just sees cost and reward, so it must have been something to do with me.” If that had been happening to Sherlock when he was sixteen Jim was _damn_ sure that John wouldn’t have stood by and watched. He would have come in on his fucking horse and swept Sherlock off to his bed before going on a merry chase around the country. “Maybe it was just my bad luck he met Sherlock first and couldn’t want me. I mean he knew Sherlock as a kid and he wanted him, I know it wasn’t an impossibility.” Fuck John Watson, Jim didn’t need his pity, he never had. “The only reason I have two doctors here is just in case I murder the other.” Jim grinned at her teasingly.

 

"I still think you're over thinking it." She sighed and gave a shrug, "John's motivations, I don't know. But I do know he was stuck in a very difficult place. He would have wanted to help you, but found no way of safely doing so. Believe me, even if you do forgive him, he'll never forgive himself. I think..." she paused and then continued gently, "You're so used to thinking of yourself, sex, and you giving sex, as the reason for everything that happens to you. That's what Magnussen wanted. And if I'm ever murdered, I'll strike you right off my consultancy list, understand?”

 

“I know why he couldn’t help me,” Jim bit out, his teeth grinding together. “But there was no fucking reason for him to cut me off. He was the only person besides Mycroft who reasonably could have supported me and they both wrote me off and left me to die.” Jim absolutely believed that if he hadn’t killed Cyric they would have disposed of him. He’d been getting bored with Jim’s body. He gave Molly a warning look when it came to telling him he was playing into Magnussen’s games but he didn’t argue with her. “I won’t kill you Molly Hooper. But if you die I’ll take care of your little fuzzball with claws.”

 

Molly looked a little shocked and then gave a genuine smile, "Thank you. I'm - that was the nicest threat anyone has ever given me, no, I know it wasn't a threat but... really. Thank you." She smiled at him. "Toby can teach Sebastian how to hunt, they'll have a wonderful time. I realize you probably want to rest rather than raking things up but it was probably good at least to talk about it a little.”

 

Jim smiled at her tiredly and nodded, it was going to be alright. He could sort Sherlock out after a nap and he was going to fucking enjoy using HOUND on Magnussen tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: This chapter is pretty messed up, the only new tw should be drugging someone against their will, but there are a lot of familiar TWs in this chapter as well that I don't have time read through the 16,000+ word chapter again for specific ones. Just expect a lot of the same warnings.

**Author's Note:**

> You can see a rough drawing I did of Jim's scars/tattoos on my tumblr! http://magpies-treasure.tumblr.com/post/137552315124


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